


four movements on a first wedding

by chevythunder



Category: SKAM (Norway), SKAM (TV)
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Alternate Universe, Angst, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-24 21:41:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 47,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13819989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chevythunder/pseuds/chevythunder
Summary: Sonja catches sight of the crumpled marriage certificate that’s fallen out of his bag. The crooked smile on her face is enough for Isak’s eyes to burn.“I’m still hoping that’s fake,” Isak says, going for a laugh. It bounces back to him, the faux joy making him nauseous.She stares at it for a few seconds longer, zoning in on the signatures, running a thumb over Even’s. “I- God, that’s... Seeing his name on one of these.”Isak looks down, keeps looking down. Tries to block out the hurt he’s causing, the hurt he’s feeling. He hugs her tightly before letting her out the door. Her answering embrace feels like going through the motions.Isak's spent years keeping his distance to Even, worried that any kind of closeness could trigger feelings he won't be able to suppress. Waking up married to Even after a blurry night in Las Vegas throws a slight wrench in those plans.





	1. on dangerous documents and keeping distant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything starts with the morning after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is, my fic for the Skam big bang of 2018. A big thank you to [the wonderful Tess](http://modertheresa.tumblr.com) aka the world's fastest beta who, I'm not kidding, had to do months worth of work in a matter of days. My other big thanks goes to [norwegianssweethearts](http://norwegianssweethearts.tumblr.com) for being so patient and creating such amazing companion pieces to this fic - all of which you can see [in the tumblr post](https://skambigbang.tumblr.com/post/171382802905/four-movements-on-a-first-wedding-by-chevythunder#notes) for this fic.

They’re not touching. In a sea of guilt and nausea, this is Isak’s one saving grace. They’re on opposite sides of the bed, both of them still wearing clothes, the content of the mini bar strewn across the floor.

And they’re not touching.

After a few minutes of waking up, Isak rolls out of bed, gingerly, trying to figure out just how bad his hangover is. After a few minutes, the immediate need to quietly perish in a cloud of headache disappears, and he can once again open his eyes.

Even’s still there. Still sleeping in Isak’s bed, in Isak’s hotel room, on Isak’s pillow. For the life of him, Isak can’t recall anything past yesterday’s lunch. They’d gone to a place Mahdi found on Trip Advisor, a small Italian away from the main tourist street. Of course, Las Vegas is never really far from tourist-land, but they managed to get at least somewhat of a genuine experience in the middle of a made-up town. After they left the restaurant, they went for drinks. That’s pretty much when Isak’s mental recorder cuts off.

The immediate problem is getting Even out of his room. Secondary is finding out how they ended up there. They’re not friends, probably the two people on the trip least likely to end up together in any sort of fashion. Still, there Even lies.

Isak doesn’t know what to do except wait. He pulls out a book from his open suitcase and settles on the foot of the bed. A quick time-check tells him it’s six thirty in the morning.

He settles in for a few hours of peace before he needs an explanation and a way to stop looking at Even like he belongs right where he is.

 

It’s almost eight when Even starts to stir. At first, it’s quiet noises and a lot of shuffling around, but it quickly turns into a drawn-out groan. Isak recognises the pain, clearing his throat softly. “There’s water on the night stand.” 

Even stills. “Isak?” His voice is coarse.

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Did- what?” Even opens his eyes, squinting over at Isak.

“I don’t know,” Isak says, keeping his focus on the page. “Can’t remember anything. You?”

Even takes a few minutes. “No, I got nothing,” he says. “This isn’t my room.”

“No.”

“But I’m still dressed,” Even says.

“Yeah.”

“Were you dressed?”

Isak nods.

Even rolls over, frowning a little as he reaches for something underneath the covers. A piece of paper appears. “What the fuck?”

“What?” Isak looks up.

“Um. We-“ Even is still scanning the page. “Okay, so here’s an explanation, at least.”

“For what?” Isak asks, sitting up straighter and trying to reach over and read.

Even hands it over. “I think we got married.”

 

After some breathing exercises and three glasses of water, Isak has a somewhat clear head and hydrated mind.

“Does it even count if we’re not American?” he asks, head still in his hands.

“I don’t know.” Even drums his fingers against his lips, deep in thought. “We should look that up. But since the marriage certificate is signed and there’s no way that happens without some ID being shown, I’d say we’re probably married for real.”

Isak stares at him. “We have a certificate. Fuck.”

“Yeah, it’s right here,” Even says distractedly, reading the paper yet again. He snorts. “I can’t believe you put a heart over the ‘i’ in Isak.”

“I can’t believe you’re actually calm about this, like, what the fuck?” Isak starts pacing, feeling the weight of his current and future problems because of this flutter down to rest on his shoulders.

Even looks up, frowning a little at Isak’s obvious distress. “It’s alright, you know. We’ll get it annulled.”

Isak feels the edge of the panic attack retreat a little, enough for him to sit down next to Even on the bed. “Okay. Alright.”

“No biggie,” Even says, patting Isak’s leg.

Isak swallows, pushing back the protest when Even removes his hand. That way madness lies.

“How do we do that?”

Even manages to pause in the middle of a yawn. “I have no idea.” He bites his lip. “This is going to be a problem, isn’t it?”

Isak falls back against the mattress, the slight bounce making his stomach lurch.

 

After discarding the idea of passing the morning hiding in the shower, Isak makes his way downstairs to the breakfast buffet. He shuffles in the line behind a middle-aged lady in a truly impressive perm and five-inch platform flip-flops and grabs a couple of pancakes and enough syrup to drown his breakfast, and his sorrows, in.

The table is almost full when he sits down next to Jonas, most of the guys looking annoyingly fresh. At least Magnus is hiding behind sunglasses and a revolting sun hat. Isak answers his nod with an odd sort of head-jerk, still wary of the nausea overpowering him if he dares a too sudden of a movement.

It’s a testament to just how out of it Isak is that it takes two pancakes and a bottle worth of syrup before he notices the heavy tension. He looks up and while most of his friends avoid his gaze, he can see them glancing at him through the corners of their eyes. Only Even appears to be more interested in his breakfast than in Isak, a fact that shouldn’t bother Isak as much as it does.

“So,” Mahdi says. “Married, huh?”

Isak freezes. Even freezes. The syrup does not, trickling down Isak’s fork and onto his hand.

“Um.” Isak catches Even’s eye across the table, wishing he’d allow a closer friendship between them so as to make non-verbal communication possible. Holding Even at arm’s length has its obvious downsides.

“No?” Isak settles on at last, shrugging helplessly at Even’s wince. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you and-“ Mahdi gestures at Even with his bread knife, “him got married last night.” He pauses. “Apparently.” 

“Why would you think that?” Even says, voice impressively calm.

“You posted it on twitter,” Mutta says. “Look.”

Mutta holds his phone out and Isak only need a fraction of a second to recognize Even, a chapel and his own beaming face. They’re both holding the marriage certificate, Isak pointing at it like a trophy.

“Oh fuck. Shit, fuck, is that-” Isak’s head starts spinning, but before it gets out of control, Even’s voice cuts through the fog.

“Wow. That probably wasn’t a good idea.”

“You think?” Isak bites out. 

“Hey, it’s your account.” Even leans in closer. “You posted a lot about it, wow." 

“Great,” Isak says, “It’s all my fault when this shit suddenly appears-“

“No, it’s not your fault, it’s not anyone’s fault,” Even says. “Except maybe Trump’s.”

“Or vodka’s,” Isak mutters darkly.

“Ooh,” Mutta says. “This is because of politics. I get it.” He looks strangely disappointed by this revelation. Isak doesn’t have the brain capacity to think about why, but files it away for when his head isn’t trying to kill him. “You got married to make a point?”

“The point wasn’t really that well thought-out, I think,” Even says. “Since neither of us can really remember it. We’re getting it annulled.”

Jonas takes a bite of his pancake, wafting his fork around. “Honestly though, if that was the reason, it’s not a bad one.”

“Oh my god,” Isak says. “What the fuck are you talking about, it’s a shit reason.”

“It’s kind of not,” Mahdi says.

“Understandable,” Mutta shrugs.

“It’s a laugh but, like, a political one,” Jonas says.

Isak picks his head up from where it’s resting on the table long enough to glare at them all individually, then returns back to the world of white tablecloths.

“Would you look at that?” Even says, smugly enough to make Isak wary of the follow-up. “Everyone’s in favour of our marriage except for my hubby.”

“Not your hubby,” Isak groans. He can feel his cheeks burn.

“I’ve got a certificate that says otherwise,” Even says.

Isak can’t deal with all the things that are currently renting space in his head, there’s too many emotions trying to take control. “Fuck off,” he mutters, before standing up and walking out of the room, ignoring all the voices calling him back.

 

He’s lying on the unmade bed, staring at the ceiling when Even knocks on the door. Always four short, a pause, and another two short ones because Even is a nerd who learnt Morse code in his spare time. 

“What?”

“You alright?”

Isak continues his exploration of the ceiling. “Fine.”

The door opens. “We need to leave soon.” Even’s voice is too soft and it pisses Isak off.

“I know, I’m not stupid.”

“Stupid enough to marry me,” Even tries but it’s weak at best. Isak doesn’t react.

Even sighs. “Okay, whatever.”

It feels calmer when he leaves, but Isak knows it’s a lie.

 

The car ride to the airport is tense. Isak steals a seat in the back, sunglasses on and headphones in but no music playing. He wants to be fully aware of his surroundings, feeling queasy about the fact that he lost control so much during the night. He can’t really reconcile his own self-image with the one being presented through his actions, he doesn’t feel like a person who would get married on a drunken whim. Even, on the other hand, seems like quite a good candidate for such a venture. 

Isak looks at his newly acquired partner through tinted shades. Even looks tired and hung-over but seems to be in an all right mood, talking quietly with Mahdi. His stubble is going on three days, his shirt old and worn out. Isak looks away before the well-known wave on fondness can make its way through his chest. He doesn’t need that today.

 

The airport is a mess, filled with overly tired tourists and families who probably shouldn’t be together anymore judging by the volume of their screaming. They all gang together and check in, go through security and find their gate with single-minded focus. It’s not until they’re about to board that their conversation starts up again. 

“We have to fly now,” Magnus says, voice is very flat. He turns to Isak. “I’m going to throw up on you.”

Isak takes a step back, shoving Jonas into the deserted spot. “Jonas is your fly-buddy. I’m sitting with Mahdi and Mutta.”

“What about me, are you just leaving me out?” Even asks, a hand on his chest. “I’m appalled, Isak. Appalled.”

Against all better judgment, Isak smiles. “Sorry. You can sit with us too.”

“Yay,” Even says softly, doing a little shoulder dance. “Thank you.”

Isak looks away, double-checks his boarding pass and passport. Jonas coughs a little. Mahdi is half-asleep.

The road home has never seemed so long.

 

By some undeserved stroke of luck, there are no screaming babies on the flight, no annoying passengers barging into their day and souring it with complaints and folded-back chairs. 

It’s still miserable. Isak tried to get a seat by the window, Mahdi next to him and Even far enough for them not to touch. Unfortunately, Mahdi had to wrestle a bit with his carry-on, and Even took the middle seat. Mutta was no help, managing to charm his way to an upgrade when he noticed the front of the plane was almost completely empty.

Despite Isak moving as close as possible to the window, putting his entire side up against the cold wall, his shoulder still rubs together with Even’s, legs nudging each other. Isak tries to shut off the part of his brain that takes comfort in it.

Isak closes his eyes and tries to sleep, even well before everyone has settled enough for the safety demonstration to get underway. Under the guise of slumber, his brain takes the opportunity to take in the warmth from Even, to try and catalogue all the places they’re currently touching. As they start moving for take-off, Even’s foot nudges Isak’s and settles in next to it.

Isak doesn’t move away. He really should, but he stays very still and tries to breathe.

 

*

 

Sonja comes over a few hours after Isak’s gotten home, standing in his flat with one foot still in doorway. Despite everything, she smiles at him.

The sight of her wakes all of the guilt he’s tried to repress, making his throat burn. For all the effort that’s gone into being a good friend, he still managed to fuck this up so bad.

She knows. Isak can tell that she knows.

“I messed up,” Isak says, point blank.

She gives a half-shrug. “We’ve all been drunk.”

“Yeah, but still,” Isak says, looking down.

She walks through the door, takes a seat on the couch. She’s still in her jacket, her hair falling softly over her forehead. She’s always pretty, but there’s a frailty to her now that makes Isak’s chest hurt.

Silence creeps through the room. Isak looks at her but can’t place her expression. She looks at him, scanning his face for clues.

“Did you mean to do it?”

“No,” he says, without hesitation. Carefully sits down next to her.

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about,” she says, resting her head against his shoulder. 

Seconds go by much like minutes do.

 

“I can’t believe this actually happened,” she says, a few hours later.

They’ve been valiantly trying to talk around it, going through the details of the rest of the trip, talking through the restaurants and the hotel and the concert. Isak’s betrayal hovers like a cloud above them the whole time, not once letting up.

If this is the way he’s going to feel until he’s managed to get out of this mess, it’ll be a long while before he’ll get to sleep.

“It was really fucking stupid,” he says. Drags a hand over treacherously dampening eyes.

She’s quiet, looks him over. “How did you even end up there?”

“I don’t know,” he says, happy to be able to answer honestly. “I was drunk and, yeah.” He shrugs. “We’d gotten away from the rest of the guys, I guess.”

“Even doesn’t remember either?” She asks.

It’s ridiculous how much he can read into her tone, how well he knows her. How warm she sounds when mentioning Even’s name.

“I guess not. We didn’t really talk about it.”

“Yeah,” she says. “He didn’t say much when I asked.”

Of course she’s already talked to him. Isak should stop feeling a stab of jealousy every time they spend time together. That’s what supposed to happen, a natural development of things beginning again. Him and Even getting married isn’t.

“You’re getting it annulled though, right?” She asks, something indefinable in her voice.

“Yes, yeah, of course,” he rushes to say. “I’d never, you know. Stay like this voluntarily.”

She nods. “Okay.”

 

As she’s about to leave, she catches sight of the crumpled marriage certificate that’s fallen out of his bag. The crooked smile on her face is enough for Isak’s eyes to burn.

“I’m still hoping that’s fake,” Isak says, going for a laugh. It bounces back to him, the faux joy making him nauseous.

She stares at it for a few seconds longer, zoning in on the signatures, running a thumb over Even’s. “I- God, that’s... Seeing his name on one of these.” 

Isak looks down, keeps looking down. Tries to block out the hurt he’s causing, the hurt he’s feeling. He hugs her tightly before letting her out the door, her answering embrace feeling like going through the motions.

 

*

 

His day is fine. His lectures are fine. The start of his shift at the uni library is fine. The phantom feel of a wedding ring he’s never even been given is anything but.

“Hey, I heard that you got married.” It’s one of his course mates, one of the more obnoxious ones, leaning against the information desk. “Is it true?”

“It was just a joke,” Isak says, careful not to make eye contact.

“Really?” 

“Really.” Isak hurries to help the next student approaching the desk, thankful when their request takes him down to the closed stacks, giving him a minute to collect himself.

 

The break room is empty when he comes in, the silence eerie as he waits for the coffee machine to finish pouring. He drinks the first cup quickly but slows down for the second, letting his hands wrap around it and steal its warmth for as long as he can.

 

*

_Can I come over?_

It’s a tense moment of deliberation, but this needs to be dealt with. _okay_

_Great! I’ll bring food!_

Isak drags a hand through his hair. _you don’t have to, i’ve already eaten_  

_Liar,_ Even texts just as Isak’s stomach rumbles. _I’m on my way!_

He brings Indian food, unpacking mountains of rice, vegetarian korma and garlic naan on Isak’s tiny coffee table. The smell spreads through the flat, warming it up.

“They all recognise me now,” Even says.

“Who?” Isak is a little thrown by the sight of Even in his flat, despite him being there countless times before. It’s different now though, mostly because there’s no buffer around, no one to hide behind. He’s going to have to focus solely on Even, look him in the eye, engage.

Isak’s stomach clenches.

“The people at Taj Mahal,” Even says, gesturing a little with his naan. “I’ve been eating there too much.”

Isak shrugs. “It’s good food.”

“Also, kinda cheap.”

“That too.” Isak pokes a carrot with his fork. “Have you, um. Looked anything up? About the whole…”

“Getting out of marriage thing?” Even asks, smiling as he looks at Isak. “Chill, it’s no big deal. It’s probably just some paper work.”

Isak hums.

“We could just say that you thought you were marrying Elvis and then you accidentally got hitched to me instead,” Even says.

“Shut up,” Isak says. He takes a bite. “I would marry Elvis.”

“I know,” Even says. His voice sounds too warm for Isak’s liking, a little too knowing.

There’s always a danger in spending time with someone who likes people this much, who genuinely cares about getting to know them, like Even does. It’s not that Isak doesn’t care, it’s just that he won’t allow his interest to seep out, to let others see it.

It took months for him to open up to Sonja about anything important, and he knows how hard Mahdi and Magnus had to work to get even an inch of that. Jonas came before, managed to make his way into the middle of the maze before Isak thought to build higher walls and more intricate re-direction routes.

Even is still locked out, for reasons Isak chooses to ignore. Somehow, Even doesn’t seem to be bothered by the non-existent personal information he’s on the receiving end on, he seems alright with them spending time together anyway.

“Did you tell your parents?” Isak asks.

Even nods, swallowing another bite. “Mum was pretty pissed.”

“Yeah?” Isak’s met them exactly once, at a photo exhibition Even’s class had back when Even was still at uni. They were nice, wore proper business clothes and showed genuine affection for their son.

Isak shook hands with them and managed two minutes of conversation before he had to leave. Sometimes, when no one is around, he imagines what it’s like to be surrounded by a family like that.

Even is a good son. Isak is not. Their family situations have grown to mirror that.

“Mhm. Mostly because she wasn’t there, I think,” Even says, smiling. “She went off about that pretty hard.”

Isak pauses. “But… you told her there wasn’t anything to witness though, right?”

“Of course I did, I wouldn’t lie to her about something like that,” Even says, busying himself with grabbing another piece of bread. “This show is great, by the way. Have you seen it before?”

He gestures to the television, where a programme Isak can’t identify is playing. He can barely even remember turning on the TV in the first place.

Isak squints at the screen for a few seconds. “It’s a bunch of antiques.”

Even nods. “Yeah, it’s awesome.”

“But-“

Even shushes him lightly. “Don’t ruin the big reveal for me. I bet that painting is worth millions.”

Isak rolls his eyes. “Nerd.”

Even knocks their knees together, letting his rest against Isak’s. Isak moves a few inches to the right, breaking contact. The arm of the couch digs into his side, making it harder for him to eat. 

It’s worth it for having his personal space back.

 

Even leaves after a few hours of television and empty conversation. Isak wishes to, just for a day, be able to talk to Even like he wants to, have the connection with him that Isak can so easily imagine them having. Some other time. Some other life.

“I’ll see you later,” Even says.

“Yeah. Text me when you’ve gotten home,” Isak says.

Even pauses in the doorway, giving Isak a smile before ducking his head and walking out. “I will.”

The flat feels empty with just Isak in it.

 

*

 

He meets up with a few of his course mates after an afternoon lecture, squeezing in a few hours of group discussions before he has to run to Jonas’. His mind is still reeling with the new aspects of his research he’s been given and he barely even notices Mutta before he walks straight into him.

“Shit, sorry.”

Mutta responds with a hug. “This is your fee for physical collision,” he says.

“Fair enough,” Isak says. Mutta is always warm, the first one to engage Isak in a discussion he feels outside of, constantly looking out for everyone without making a fuss.

It’s a good sign of their friendship that Isak never feels indebted to Mutta for it, knowing that he pays Mutta back in equal amounts of love.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” Isak says.

“I got recruited to take Magnus’ place,” Mutta says. “Been practicing all week.”

“Why isn’t Magnus here?” Isak says, holding the door open for Mutta. He gets a salute as Mutta passes by.

“Stuff with his mum,” Mutta says. “He wanted to just chill with her instead.”

“Oh, right. Cool,” Isak says.

Magnus is a good son too, maybe even better than Even. Isak doesn’t know how he’s managed to collect them all in his life, feeling both in awe of and minimalized by their dedication to their families.

Jonas opens the door within a few seconds of knocking. “Hey!”

“Hi!” Mutta says, first through the door with a hug.

Isak follows with a smile and a clap on Jonas’ back. “You alright?”

“Yeah, good.” Jonas ushers them towards the basement. “Oh, and I invited your husband, Isak. I figured since you’re newlyweds and all.”

Isak’s mouth goes embarrassingly dry. “Funny.”

Jonas throws him a grin over his shoulder. “Come on. It’s pretty hilarious.”

“Sure.”

“I think it’s great,” Mutta says, sneaking an arm across Isak’s shoulder, making their descent down the staircase significantly more unbalanced. “You’re cute together.”

“We’re not together,” Isak says. His voice is a little sharper than he’d like.

“Well, not _now_ ,” Mutta says. “I’m just saying, you never know what’s going to happen.”

“I know what’s not going to happen,” Isak says, biting. He shoulders himself passed Jonas, enters the room before the others.

There are two people in the room and one open spot, right next to Even on the couch. Isak makes a joke of throwing himself on Mahdi’s lap, burrowing down in between Mahdi and the armrest. The chair really isn’t made for two people, but it’s Isak’s safest bet.

He sneaks a look over to the couch, Even occupied with hugging Mutta, his eyes crinkled up.

Isak doesn’t regret his decision to forego a place next to Even. He doesn’t.

He always does.

“Alright, so we’re going to start off with Rocket League, and then the winner gets to play Fifa,” Jonas says.

“I don’t like RL, it’s so fucking dumb,” Mahdi says.

“Come on, it’s amazing!” Mutta says. “It’s football… but with _cars_.”

“I’m with Mutta,” Even says, earning himself an affectionate shoulder bump. “It’s kinda cool. Isak thinks so too,” he adds, smiling over at Isak.

“The inhabitants of this chair are against Rocket League,” Mahdi says, pointing a finger at Isak. “If you agree with the heathens over there, I will have to kick you off.”

Isak shrugs at Even. “Rocket League sucks.”

Mahdi gives him a high five. Even gives him a wink.

“First game is me against Mahdi,” Jonas says, throwing one of the controllers over. “Let’s do this.”

Mutta leans in to whisper something to Even, making him laugh. Isak turns to the screen, tries to immerse himself in the action, rather than his own petty jealousy.

The possessive longing to see a wedding ring on Even’s finger almost chokes him.

 

Isak manages to eventually win the entire tournament, beating Jonas in the final game of Fifa when the clock is nearing midnight.

“And that’s how it’s done,” he says, unable to hide his smug smile.

Even is the only one to smile back. “Always so humble.”

“Don’t need to be humble when I’m this good,” Isak says. “You do, because you suck.”

“Well, you would know,” Mahdi says absentmindedly, patting Isak on the chest while still concentrating on his phone.

Isak leans in to destroy Mahdi’s chances in his current game of Candy Crush as retaliation, snickering when he succeeds.

“Oh, come on. I’m out of lives now,” Mahdi says.

“I’ll send you some,” Even says, pulling out his phone. “Hang on.”

“See that? That’s how a proper friend behaves,” Mahdi says.

“Whatever,” Isak says, leaning back. He feels relaxed enough to melt into Mahdi’s side, let go of some of the tension in his shoulders. He gives the room a cursory glance, sees Mutta aiming his phone over at them.

“You look so cute all mushed together,” Mutta says after being caught. “Can I put it on insta?”

“Nope,” Mahdi says, just as Isak is about to give his consent.

Isak frowns at him. “Why not?”

“You’re a married man now,” Mahdi says. “Can’t go around hugging other dudes on social media.”

“That’s bullshit,” Isak says. “Jonas, tell him that’s bullshit.”

“It is bullshit,” Jonas says. “For real, that’s messed up. It’s perpetuating stereotypes that all contact queer people have with others is inherently sexual.”

“Fine, sorry,” Mahdi says, “put it up, I was just trying to be considerate.”

Isak huffs.

“Done!” Mutta says, pocketing his phone with a flourish. “I should get going.”

“Me too,” Even says, draining his glass of water.

Isak stubbornly stays put, wanting to stay still for a second longer. A minute, maybe. An hour.

“Do you want me to walk with you?” Mahdi asks, nudging Isak’s side and effectively ruining Isak’s plan. 

“Okay,” Isak mumbles.

 

It takes a while for them all to get ready, coats and shoes a mess on the floor by the door. Even throws Isak his scarf and a smile.

Isak looks down, wraps it several times around his neck so that his mouth is hidden, prohibited from making stupid statements and declarations.

“Can I come next week, too?” Mutta asks.

“Course,” Jonas says. “You too, Even.”

“Cool, thanks,” Even says.

He always sounds genuinely happy to be included and Isak doesn’t understand it, thinks Even ought to be used to it by now. People want him around, everyone does. Even Isak, who doesn’t want to want Even around as ferociously as he does, still want him around.

They get out the door, an awkward gathering before they’re to go separately. Mutta heads off to the tram, Even is to take a bus and Mahdi and Isak are walking.

At least, that’s the plan until Even stops, turns around to run and catch up with them and shouting a goodbye to Mutta over his shoulder.

“I’ll jump on the next stop instead,” Even says in explanation, his cheeks a little pink from the cold. They’re the same colour as his mittens, a pastel match when Even reaches up to brush away some imaginary dirt from his cheek.

Isak looks away. “Alright.”

They walk in silence. It’s not uncomfortable and not ideal, Mahdi the only one seemingly unbothered by it. His departure comes too soon, waving them off before disappearing down a side-road, his house lit up by the end of it.

“Wasn’t he going to walk you?” Even asks, frowning a little.

“Not all the way home,” Isak says.

“Oh, right,” Even says. “Hey, I’m sorry for coming tonight. I feel like I’m intruding on your thing, and I didn’t mean to.”

Isak doesn’t know how to respond, so he doesn’t.

“It’s not like anything’s different,” Even says, his words coming out a little more heated than before.

“I know.”

“So, let’s not to anything that we didn’t used to do,” Even says.

“Okay,” Isak says. His backpack is digging into his lower back, a dull ache starting up.

“Okay,” Even says. 

It’s silent the rest of the way. They pass a few bus stops before Isak’s street comes into view. Even doesn’t stop at any of them.

 

*

 

Strangely enough, life goes on without any major changes. Despite the fact that Isak would now have to cross a different box on official documents, his life really hasn’t been altered by vowing it to someone else.

In his heart of hearts, Isak has been waiting for it for a long time, having a connection like this. His family has never been a picture perfect example of a happy marriage, but it’s still something he’s aimed for, longed for, wanted. It’s more the act of finding someone who would say yes than about the actual marriage itself that’s been the main instigator, and now he will forever compare whoever comes next to the husband he’s gotten but was never supposed to have.

For all Isak’s daydreams and nightmare scenarios, he’d never imagine marriage to feel this lonely.

To be fair, they do talk more now, him and Even, inevitable texts about who has found out and brought up the wedding in conversation, making plans for research meet-ups and potential awkwardness about future endeavours. Even is constantly making new work contacts while trying to get financing for his films, and he’s tentatively asked if it’s alright to drop the casual mention of a whirl-wind marriage to connect with the more romantic of investors.

_it’s fine_ , Isak writes yet again. He’s grown to hate those words and their accompanying emptiness.

_I just don’t want it to be like a gimmick, you know? Also, what if we get divorced before this project is finished?_

Another word Isak’s come to despise. He tries to overlook the slight stab at Even’s casual use of it. _then you tell them we got divorced nbd. maybe they’ll feel sorry for you and give you more money out of pity_

_Hahah, that’s the dream!_  

Isak dreams quite differently.

 

*

 

As always, exams are looming in the near future and despite the two of them no longer taking the same classes, Isak still prefers Sana as a study partner. Her going into medicine wasn’t surprising in the least, and she seems more than happy about her choice. His own decision to get an engineering degree was more spur of the moment, propelled by wanting to make good money and having something impressive to show for himself.

They’re sat at one of the quieter corners of the university library, a couple of hours left until Isak’s next shift.

“Can you imagine being a hypochondriac and reading this book?” Sana says, holding up a quite gruesome page for him to see.

“Jesus, what the fuck,” Isak says, throwing up an arm to block the view. “Why would you show me that?”

“To prove a point,” Sana says, an innocent smile on her face. “But seriously, I’m freaking out about this. Can’t even imagine how much worse it’d be with that stuff piled on top.”

“Do you have a hypochondriac in your class?” Isak asks.

She nods. “Yeah, she’s doing really well, but still. I’d be freaked out constantly.”

Isak hums, turning his head when someone is carefully clearing their throat.

“Hi, sorry, I know you’re not working right now, but I can’t find this book.” She holds out a post-it note with a number written on it. “Do you have any idea where it is?”

“Yeah, just go past the computer lab, turn right and then you see the shelves marked with purple. Do you know how to read the numbers?” He asks.

“I think so, yeah,” she says, nodding. “Thank you!”

“No problem,” Isak says, giving her a smile. “Just come back if you don’t find it.”

When he turns back, Sana has a worryingly scrutinizing look on her face. Automatically, he looks down on his shirt for potential stains, running a hand through his hair. “What?”

“Nothing,” she says.

He waits for a continuation, but she returns to her reading without another word. After a beat, so does he. If it’s anything serious, she’ll return to it when she’s done thinking it over.

The consistency in that is one of his favourite things about her.

 

It turns into a quiet night once Isak swaps studies for work, Isak mostly messing around online, finding a few library-themed essays to go through so that he can’t really be blamed if someone catches him reading instead of working.

Adam comes back from break with two cups of coffee and a tin of biscuits. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Isak smiles, stealing a biscuit and taking a bite. It’s nothing but politeness that prevents him from spitting it out. He can’t help making a face though, helplessly scrunching up his nose.

“Oh, shit, really?” Adam says, taking a bite of his own. “Fuck me.”

Isak laughs, his hand catching most of the spraying crumbs. “Please tell me you didn’t make these.”

“No, are you kidding? Found them in a cupboard.” Adam puts the lid back on. “Now I know why no one’s stolen them before.”

“Here,” Isak says, holding out the wastebasket for Adam to throw his biscuit into.

“Ready?” It sails perfectly through the air, landing squarely in the middle. “Yes!”

They share a high-five before Isak sits back down, taking a sip of his coffee. Out of all his co-workers, he likes Adam best, which is convenient since he’s the one that got Isak the job.

Despite being two years older, they’re in the same year in their respective programmes since Adam took time off before going to uni. They have a lot of friends in common, but there’s one that’s always managed to be absent from mention in their conversations so far.

Isak doesn’t want that to change, but he also doesn’t want to exclude Adam from the new development in his life.

Very timely, Adam brings up the unshapely elephant in the room. “So, how was the trip?”

Isak shrugs, trying for casual. “It was okay. Lot of studying to catch up on when I got back, but.”

“Mm. Still worth it when you got to go to do all the Vegas stuff, right?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Isak doesn’t really know why, but for the first time since they got back, he wants to tell someone, even if that someone obviously already knows. “I mean… I got married, so. Guess that’s something.”

Adam chokes on his coffee. “You what?” He says in between bouts of coughing.

“He didn’t tell you?” Isak asks, suddenly scared that he’s blown Even’s cover, embarrassing him without meaning to.

“Who?” Adam is quicker than Isak usually gives him credit for, only needing a few seconds before getting it. “Oh shit, you married Even.” 

“It’s not, like, real or anything. It was just this stupid drunk thing, but. Yeah.” Isak studies his fingernails closely, so as not to have to meet Adam’s eye.

There’s absolute silence for a few seconds. “Wow,” Adam says. “I didn’t think that stuff happened in real life.”

Isak snorts. “Me neither.”

“So are you gonna stay married?” Adam asks. “Did something happen between you?”

“No.”

“Okay.” 

A harried-looking guy comes up to the desk to ask about the microfilms. Adam takes care of it, giving Isak a wave before following the guy downstairs.

 

It’s not until they’re closing up, turning the lights off and grabbing their coats that Adam circles back to it.

“When are you getting divorced?”

“Soon,” Isak says. “As soon as possible, I guess.”

“Right. There’s nothing there? I mean, you did get married, even if you were drunk.” He nudges Isak gently. “In vino veritas, and all that.”

Isak gives a weak smile. “No,” he says. “There’s nothing there." 

Dreams don’t count.

 

*

 

_I miss you, are you free this weekend?_

_yep, you want to come over?_

Sonja is quick to reply. _Yes please!_

_i’m home saturday, come when you want_

_That’s what all the ladies like to hear._

He huffs out a laugh. _shut up._

He’s missed her too.

 

*

 

The last lecture before the weekend is slug-like in speed. Isak can’t help but stare at the clock in the corner of his laptop screen, unable to find the motivation and energy everyone around him seems to exude. He should probably be more interested in the subject matter than he is, but it’s just all a grey mass hanging over him, demanding space in his mind and memory Isak’s reluctant to give.

He’s bored out of his mind, and this is only half-way through his second year. Graduating feels far away, too far to even imagine. Even getting through another term seems close to impossible, but he knows he’s stubborn enough to push through.

At the end of the day, his notes are fine, enough to get him a passing grade in the next exam and get prepared for the next module. Still not enough to brighten his mood though.

 

“Isak!”

He turns before the word is even completed, Even’s voice always having an instant impact.

“Hi!” Even says as he jogs up to Isak, adjusting the strap of his backpack.

“Hey,” Isak says, shoving his hands in his pockets so as not to do anything stupid. “What’s up?”

“Nothing, I was just dropping of Elias.” Even smiles at him. “You going home?”

“Yeah.” Isak nods, feeling a little off-kilter. He likes to prepare for these meetings, likes to know what’s coming before he encounters it. Surprises are normally not his thing, but surprises involving Even is steadily becoming straight up dangerous, particularly if the uptick in his heartbeat is anything to go by.

It’s been silent for a beat too long when Even clears his throat. “Cool. I’m going to Mikael’s, so I’m on the same tram.”

Isak nods again, frozen for a second before remembering how to walk. A hand on his arm gives him pause.

“It’s this way,” Even says, gently steering Isak to the right before letting go.

“I know,” Isak says, insecurity making his voice harsher than needed. He pulls up the zipper on his jacket a little further, letting it close right up to his neck. “Are you going to film something?” He asks, a genuine question but a thin apology.

Even is, as always, more kind than Isak deserves. “Yeah, we’re doing the final scenes on the documentary.”

Isak nods. “Is it the same one you did last year?”

“Yup. It’s taken forever. Turns out there’s not that many people who want to talk about themselves on camera,” Even says.

“You could just stand outside of the Big Brother house,” Isak says, shrugging.

“And catch them as they get voted out?” Even says.

“Mhm.”

“That’s genius. We’d be done ages ago.”

They get to the tram stop, finding an empty spot to stand on close to the end of the platform.

“What are you doing this weekend?” Even asks.

“Sonja’s coming over tomorrow,” Isak says. It’s only after he’s said it that he realizes he maybe shouldn’t have. A quick peek at Even shows nothing but a casual nod.

“Are you gonna watch TV?” Even asks, a smile in his words.

Isak rolls his eyes. “Probably. She should just get her own.”

“Would take all the excitement out of it, probably,” Even says. “Plus, she’d have less excuses to spend hours on other people’s couches, so.”

“True,” Isak says. He carefully directs his thoughts away from how often Sonja’s stationed at Even’s, how long she stays, how close they sit. He’s happy for them, for their continued connection.

He’s supposed to be happy for them.

“What about Sunday?”

“Hm?” Isak accidentally looks up, meets Even’s eyes head-on.

“What are you doing Sunday?”

“Nothing,” Isak says. “I have to study, but… nothing. Why?” It’s funny how a single word can drain him of all his built-up courage.

“I have to go to IKEA. Do you want to come?”

The arrival of the tram buys Isak a few moments of time. Too quickly, they’re sitting, thighs almost touching, question still hanging in the air.

“I’ll buy you a Billy,” Even says, bumping their shoulders together.

Isak snorts. “I don’t need a Billy.”

“A Bremnes, then? A Fjell? A nice Blekvide? Or maybe a lovely pink Söderhamn? It’d look great in your flat,” Even says, his most serious face on.

“Shut up,” Isak says, pushing him away. “You’re such a loser.”

“Alright, alright, how about I’ll buy you food? You like their meatballs.”

Isak squints at him. “With mash?”

“Obviously,” Even says, holding a hand to his heart. “What, did you think I’d go for fries? I’m not a heathen.”

“Fine,” Isak laughs. “I’ll come with you.”

“Yay!” Even says, beaming. “I’m borrowing mum’s car, so I’ll come and get you.”

“Okay,” Isak says, relaxing a little back into the seat. “How do you know so many of the names, anyway?”

“I’ve just been looking around,” Even says, the tips of his ears turning slightly pink. “For stuff. Just browsing.”

Isak nods. “Remind me to get more glasses, I’m always out.”

“That’ll change when you do the dishes,” Even says, digging his phone out of his pocket. “But sure, I’ll put it on the list.”

There’s something perilously domestic about the two of them making a joint list, but Isak can’t help it but feel a tiny sense of satisfaction at the sight of his glasses next to Even’s candles and lamps.

He tries to squash the feeling before the warmth grows permanent.

 

*

 

Saturday comes with good weather and hours upon hours with a best friend. Isak always misses Sonja, but never as much as in the moments just before they reunite. He knows he should be better at keeping in touch, but it seems so much easier to read her texts without doing anything about them, finding them days after and have to apologise for being lazy, rather than to actually sit down and answer them in a timely manner.

Their day is slow, starting with a pit stop at a coffee shop before going to one of the smaller public libraries nearby. Isak likes visiting all the different branches from time to time, getting a smile and quick hello’s from the staff he recognises before browsing the shelves at his own speed. He’s been a summer substitute in most of them, knowing his way around the sections pretty well at this point.

He’s seen the usual good morning message from Even, but has yet to respond. This day is Sonja’s, tomorrow is Even’s and they are not to be mixed, not if Isak wants to be able to make it through the weekend without drowning in guilt. He knows he should probably opt out of Sunday’s activities all together, but he can’t seem to send out the words necessary to call it off. He justifies it with nothing at all, instead choosing to simply push it away to focus on Sonja. He’s all hers today.

She’s made her way into the children’s section when Isak catches up with her, sitting down in one of the beanbags, looking around. “Oh, look!” she says. “They have Pettson!”

“Of course they do,” Isak says. “They’re classics.”

“Can we read it, please?” Sonja asks. “You’re a librarian, come on.”

“Library assistant,” Isak says, but folds easily. “Alright. Do you want the one with the pancakes or the one where Findus moves out?”

“The one where he moves out,” Sonja says. “It’s so sad.”

He pulls it out and takes a seat on the floor next to her. “Masochist.”

“You know it,” Sonja says, holding a hand against her heart. “Give me sadness or let me perish.”

Isak snorts. “Right.” He carefully doesn’t think about possible scenarios of how he could fulfil her request. “Do you want me to actually read it out loud?”

“Of course! Otherwise it doesn’t count.” Sonja makes herself comfortable, burrowing a little further down in her seat.

Isak grumbles a little, but opens up the book and dutifully reads all the information on the title page, getting an elbow in his side for the trouble. “Ow.”

“I don’t want to hear about who published it, come on.”

“Alright, fine.” Isak turns to the first page, clearing his throat before he begins.

 

Ten minutes in, he notices someone moving in the periphery of his eye line. Shooting them a quick look, he catches sight of a little girl and what can only be her brother, identical hair and noses, standing side by side. When they notice him looking, they immediately turn away, the girl putting a protective arm over her brother’s shoulder, pretending to look through one of the shelves.

He gives Sonja a small smile as she holds up a hand to stop herself from giggling, before returning to the book. After another few pages, the children grow a little bolder and takes a few steps closer. Isak pretends not to notice.

They’re at the part when Findus gets scared in the middle of the night, sleeping in his new home all on his own, when contact is made. Little strands of brown hair blocks part of the page as the boy leans in to look at the picture.

“Alfons,” the girl hisses, pulling him back.

“It’s okay if you want to look,” Isak says. “The pictures are the best part.”

He holds the book carefully still, looks over to meet the girl’s eyes head on. After a brief once-over, she relaxes a little, seemingly deeming him safe enough to stand near. She still keeps an arm across her brother’s chest though, not letting him get too close.

Isak continues to read. Sonja continues to listen. The kids continue to look. As they reach the end, all four of them are a little emotional in the happiest of ways.

“Did you like it?” Isak asks the girl.

She nods. Hesitates. “But I like the one with the pancakes more.”

“Me too,” Isak says. “Do you want me to read it?”

Alfons runs over to grab it before she can answer, switching out the book in Isak’s hands.

“You can take my seat if you want,” Sonja says. “I’m going to go look for a book of my own.”

They both sit down, Alfons in his sister’s lap. “I’m Alfons,” he says, giving a smile to reveal all of four teeth gaps. “And that’s Maja.”

“I’m Isak,” Isak says. “Do you like coming to the library?”

They both nod.

“There used to be a lady reading books here,” Maja says. “But she’s not here anymore.”

“Oh? Maybe she’s working somewhere else,” Isak says.

She shrugs.

“I can ask if you want,” Isak says.

Alfons leans in. “Can you read first?”

Isak smiles. “Of course.”

 

The second book flies by, and soon after, they’re in the middle of a book discussion, Isak bringing up Pippi Longstocking, which Alfons doesn’t like since he’s afraid of horses, and Maja talking about a book about space she really loved.

They’re interrupted by a voice coming from the doorway. “Hi guys!”

Both kids immediately leap up to smother the newcomer in hugs.

“Hi!” Alfons shouts.

“You’re late,” Maja says, but doesn’t seem to put out.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” the woman says. “Did you wait long? I thought dad was going to stay with you.”

“He did,” Maja says, immediately on defence.

“Just a little though,” Alfons says, still in the middle of his hug. “But Isak read for us.”

“Oh, hello!” The woman says, coming over to shake Isak’s hand, her other holding her son’s. “I’m Marika.”

“Hi, nice to meet you. Isak.”

“Are you new? I thought I’d met all the staff,” Marika says, her tone warm but something guarded in her eyes.

“Um, no, I don’t work here,” Isak says. “I work in the university library,” he hurries to add. “And I usually get shifts around the public ones during the summer, so.”

“Oh, okay.” Marika turns to Maja. “So what books did you guys read?”

“Pettson,” Maja says. “Two of them. But we were gonna pick something longer next, right Isak?”

“Right,” Isak says. “You could borrow them instead, maybe your mum could read them?”

“Could you?” Alfons asks, looking up at Marika.

“Of course,” she says, stroking a hand over his curly hair. “You can pick two each.”

“Yes!” Alfons says, immediately taking off.

Maja is a little slower on the uptake, weighing on her heels back and forth. “I don’t know what I want to read,” she mumbles.

“Why don’t you take a look around?” Marika asks. “And if you don’t find anything, you can come back and we can look together.”

Maja nods, and heads off in the direction of the non-fiction books.

Isak gives Marika a quick smile. “I should probably go find my friend,” he says, feeling a little awkward. “I’m sorry if I, like, overstepped or anything by reading to them. It was… I read it for my friend and they overheard and started listening in.”

Marika looks slightly confused. “You read a children’s book to your friend?”

“Um, yeah, she’s-“

“Isak, you in here?” Sonja pops round the corner like a saving angel. “Oh, hello. Where did the kids go?”

“They’re around here somewhere,” Marika says. “I’m their mum. I’m guessing you’re Isak’s friend.”

Sonja shakes her hand. “Yeah, hi.”

“I was trying to explain why I was reading Pettson to you,” Isak says, calmed by Sonja standing close by.

“Oh! Well, I felt nostalgic, and I figured Isak needs to up his game on reading out loud since he’s a librarian and all, so-”

“Library assistant,” Isak says.

“Since he’s a library assistant and all, so I asked him to read it for me. It’s a great book, isn’t it? My mum read all of them to me when I was little.”

“We’ve read them too,” Marika says. “The illustrations are amazing.”

Alfons comes running. “Mum! I can’t find the one with the cowboy.”

“I’ll help you,” Marika says. “But what should we never do in the library?”

“Run or shout or scream or talk really loud or ask people what they read or take books from other people or annoy the lib- libra- Liberians.”

Isak snorts, but tries to turn it into a cough.

“Librarians,” Marika says gently, taking his hand. “That’s right. Say bye to Isak before we go.”

“Bye, Isak. Bye, Isak’s friend,” Alfons says, waving wildly before dragging his mum away.

“Bye!” They wave to him until he’s out of sight, Sonja weaving her hand in under Isak’s arm.

“I guess I’ll always be ‘Isak’s friend’ to him now,” she says.

“Sorry,” Isak shrugs.

“No, I like it,” she says. “It’s a good epitaph to be known by.”

He gives her hand a squeeze.

“Oh, and I found this for you,” Sonja says, handing over a book. “They had the translation!”

It’s _Metro 2035_ , and Isak’s been looking for the Norwegian version on all the libraries he’s visited, always coming up short. “Yes,” he hisses, cradling it to his chest. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” she says. “Maybe you can stop bitching about it always being lent out.”

“Yeah, yeah. Not my fault that the only books you want to read always are in, because they’re crap,” he says, smirking as he takes a shove. “What, it’s true!”

“I have great taste in books,” Sonja says. “Take it back, or I’ll keep the book.”

He holds the book up over his head. “Good luck. I’m going to check it out, and then it’s gone.”

“I already did,” Sonja says.

“On your card?”

“Yeah.” She looks up at him when he’s silent for a beat, immediately narrowing her eyes at him when she sees his smile. “What?”

“Nothing. Just that you have to be nice to me for like a month now, otherwise I’ll maybe forget to return it and get you into a world of trouble.”

“Are you saying that you’d get me…. Library fines?” she asks, the words spoken as a description of the darkest of crime.

“Mhm.”

She takes another glance at him before flicking her hair and pulling him out the door. “Nice try, but there’s no way. You respect the rules of this place too much.”

As they walk out into the cold air, he pulls her closer and doesn’t contradict her. The book is a comfortable weight in his hand and he can practically feel his brain gearing up to push him into start reading.

“And besides, this is a good way to make sure that we talk more, since you’re going to forget when it’s due and I’m gonna need to remind you,” Sonja says.

“Right. I’m sorry for being so bad at replying,” he says.

“It’s okay.”

It’s not, but he’ll take the comfort anyway.

 

They end their day at Sonja’s, carrying take away thai-food and several bags of shopping. Sonja’s couch is one for the ages, big, beige and supremely comfortable. Isak’s fallen asleep on it more times than he’d care to remember. It’s safe and soft, just like her.

“Are you doing okay with the whole Even thing?” he asks, not wanting to dance around the subject. If he’s supposed to be there for her, he should be there full on, and not just when it’s convenient. Taking her feelings into account is hard if he never asks about them.

“What do you mean?”

“With, you know. Me and him…” he gestures lamely so as to catch the spirit of marriage without having to say it out loud.

“Oh. Right. I don’t know, it’s weird.” She takes another bite of food, chews it slowly. “But, it’s not like it’s real, so. It’s fine. Just feels a little odd that you ended up like that.”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” Isak says.

“No, I know,” Sonja says. “How are you dealing with it?”

“Me? I’m fine.” Isak stabs a piece of pork hard enough for it to split in three. “It’s just annoying.”

“Yeah, I get that. Have you…nothing’s happened though, right? You’ve not been fighting or, I don’t know, started something?”

She avoids Isak’s eye when he looks over. His stomach constricts.

“No,” he hastens to say. “Nothing. I mean, we’ve talked a little more than usual, but that’s just because we need to sort it out the divorce and stuff. Not anything more than that.”

Sonja nods. “Maybe you’ll finally be friends now,” she says, smiling a little.

“We’re friends,” Isak says.

“Really?”

He looks down. “Maybe not.”

“Don’t stress about it,” she says, waving her fork around. “If you don’t get on with someone, you don’t get on. No need to push it.”

Isak bites his lip having to maintain the vague judgement he told Sonja about Even back when they first met. ‘ _Nice enough_ ’ had come up, as well as ‘ _seems alright_ ’, guided with a shrug that brought it all together to mean _nothing special_. That had been the basis for Sonja’s impression of Isak’s impression all along - lukewarm and un-dramatic.

If he lies enough to himself, Isak can turn it into an accurate one, and therefore stop it being a lie. He hates lying to Sonja. Fooling himself is much easier, and comes with less baggage.

“I guess,” he says, belatedly. “We’re hanging out tomorrow, though.”

“Yeah?”

Isak nods. “Going to IKEA. He needed some stuff, and he has a car, so. Thought I could get some things too.”

“Are you finally going to get rid of the couch?” Sonja asks, poking his leg with her toe.

“No, and I’d appreciate it if you’d stop asking,” he says, his overly polite intonation perfectly measured. “Me and Klas are perfectly fine.”

“You and Klas suck,” Sonja says. “You more, cause you named the thing.”

Isak gives her a lazy fuck-off. Sonja kicks him. “Whose car is Even taking?”

“I think his mum’s.”

“Aw. I miss her,” Sonja says. She looks a little wistful. “Miss all of them, really.”

Isak doesn’t know what to do except nod, so he does.

“So many things suck about breaking up,” Sonja says, “and losing the family is one of them.”

“Yeah.”

“Have you met them?” Sonja asks.

“No?” Isak says. ”Why would I?”

Sonja shrugs, leans forward to put her plate on the coffee table. “I don’t know. Isn’t that what you do when you accidentally get married?”

“I don’t think so, no.” The last bite Isak took grows in his mouth, cloying in his mouth.

“Should read the manual,” Sonja says. “I’m sure someone wrote it. Maybe you’ve got it hidden in the stacks at the library.”

Isak snorts. “Sure.” He pokes at his food a little before giving up. It’s gone cold, anyway.

 

Sleep evades him after he gets home that night, hardly a surprise at this point but annoying enough to turn his mood sour. He tries to get into his newly acquired book, but a multitude of memories, both real ones and impossible ones not yet made creep into his mind and makes it fruitless to try and focus on anything but the coming day.

Isak’s never been on his own with Even as much as he has since they got back from their trip. If this was a normal situation, if they had the relationship the legal documents claim, if Even was his, this wouldn’t be an issue but as it stands, this public intimacy of theirs is going to be a bigger problem than need be, at least if Isak’s mind is allowed the wheel.

He tries to rationalize his thoughts by going through all his other friendships and how his interactions of them play out. If it had been anyone else, going to IKEA for a day wouldn’t be a big deal. If it were anyone else, it would be fine, and Isak can’t afford to have different reactions towards Even than to the rest of his friends. If he does, his emotional fences will start to crumble, and that simply can’t happen.

Even is just like anyone else. Even isn’t special, can’t be special. Even is a friend, or rather, a friend of a friend. An ex-boyfriend of a friend, soon to be non-ex-boyfriend of a friend. Nothing more. Not now, not ever, no matter what a hidden away piece of paper might say. 

Unfortunately, rational thoughts don’t make for a good pillow.

 

Since Even in many ways have the manners of a pensioner, he actually walks up and knocks on the door to collect Isak rather than just send a text.

He’s weighing back and forth on his heels when Isak makes it out to the hallway, happily chatting with Eskild who’s come by to pick something up. That something has never once graced Isak’s flat with its presence, but Isak likes Eskild coming by too much to call him on his bluff.

Eskild once let it slip, while being two pitchers deep in Margarita, that he’s almost never not lonely. He’s the only person whose texts Isak always reply to within five minutes. The only person who has a key to Isak’s flat.

“What colour do you want?” Even asks Eskild, smiling at Isak as he comes back into the hall, hurriedly shoving his feet into a pair of trainers.

“Purple or blue. But not too dark,” Eskild says. “Like Isak’s jacket maybe, but a little lighter.”

“What are you talking about?” Isak asks, putting a snapback on just to have Eskild snatch it away.

“Don’t hide the haircut,” Eskild says.

“Whatever,” Isak says.

“We’re picking Eskild up some candles,” Even says. “With your jacket as a guide.”

“Alright,” Isak says. “You want anything else?”

Eskild hums, absentmindedly fixing Isak’s fringe. “Don’t think so. Oh, maybe if you see a nice rug, you know, for the kitchen?”

“I’ll check.” Isak stands patiently still under Eskild’s ministrations for another few seconds before sighing. “You done?”

“For now,” Eskild says, pulling his hand away. “Gotta look after my work.”

“Your work?” Even asks, eyes fixed on Isak’s hair.

Isak zips his jacket up a little further, pulling the cuffs down to cover his hands.

“I cut his hair. I’m really good,” Eskild says.

“You’re cheap,” Isak says.

“Well, that too, but right now we’re talking about hair,” Eskild says.

Isak rolls his eyes.

“It looks good,” Even says. “I’m impressed.”

“Thanks!” Eskild says, preening a little.

Isak hasn’t told him about the marriage yet. “Are you gonna stay here?” he asks.

“That’s the plan.”

“Alright,” Isak nods. “I’ll text you when I’m on my way back.”

“Cool,” Eskild says. “Good luck in the hetero-jungle.”

Even snorts. Isak waves him out the door. “Let’s go.”

They make their way to the car in silence, Isak shoving his bag down by his feet as he sits down.

“You okay with Spotify, or do you want radio?” Even asks, pulling his phone out.

“Can we go with radio?” Isak asks.

“Yeah, sure,” Even says. He puts his phone in the holder and opens up Google maps.

“You can’t find IKEA without a guide?” Isak smirks.

“Hush. You’re the one who wants to listen to the radio,” Even says.

“For the traffic announcements!” Isak says. “Do you know how many people wouldn’t have to get stuck in traffic or could have avoided getting into accidents if they’d had the radio on?”

“A lot?”

“A lot.”

“Okay,” Even says. “We’ll stick with the radio.”

Isak has to turn away from Even’s smile.

“I can guide you better than the GPS,” he says.

“Yeah?”

Isak nods.

“Go ahead, then.”

And so he does.

 

A lot can be learnt from someone’s driving style. Even slows down way too early at every intersection and stop sign, letting multiple jaywalkers pass ahead of him and is overly cautious in the roundabouts. He sings along loudly to every song he knows on the radio only to be silent at the traffic announcements, and keeps up a running commentary about the streets they pass.

Isak guides him with gestures more than words, making sure to read all the signs so as not to get lost. His navigation skills aren’t as good as they’d been had he had his own driving license and a car, but he can do well enough to trick Even into thinking he had a set route in his mind the whole time.

By the time they park the car, Isak is completely relaxed and a little proud of the fact that they never even got close to entering an argument.

“You’re a great guide,” Even says. 

“I know.” Isak sticks his nose up and opens the door to the sound of Even’s laugh.

 

They grab a cart and Even pulls out the list, adding Eskild’s candles and potential rug to it before putting the pen behind his ear and turning to Isak. “You ready to brave the crowds?”

“Let’s do it.”

Isak takes control of the cart just for the sake of having something to do with his hands. Even looks so much like he did when they first met, the pen a poor substitute for the joint that first drew Isak in.

It took him two minutes to learn that Even was Sonja’s much talked about boyfriend, but it took him two hours to properly get it through his head, to see just how out of bounds Even were. Isak hadn’t known Sonja that long by then, but she was already one of the people he wanted to be around the most, a top candidate on a very short list.

He’s stayed away from Even and his particular brand of irresistible as much as he can ever since but still, that small stab of want sometimes manages to overpower him. Isak’s learnt it’s best to just let it be, let it die and move on. With Sonja’s feelings in mind, it’s the least he can do.

Even leans in closer. “Bet you I can find the lamps faster than you can.”

He smells like the Gucci cologne Isak once helped Sonja pick out as a Christmas present. The scent makes him nauseous.

“You’re on,” Isak says, pulling away slightly and turning his head so that he can breathe again. 

Let it be. Let it die. Move on.

 

They try out most of the couches and all of the office chairs, Isak putting his foot down when it came to kitchen tables.

“There’s no way we’ll get out before closing time if we’re gonna test sit all of them,” he says.

“Fine,” Even says, only moping a little. “I like that white one though, it’s nice.”

“I guess,” Isak says. “I mean… it’s a table.”

Even snorts. “I think that’s the point.”

Isak throws him a frown. “Do you want to help me pick out glasses or not?”

“I definitely do,” Even says, steering their cart ahead. “What kind do you need?”

“The kind you drink from,” Isak says absentmindedly, already scanning the shelves. “Oh, those ones.” He points to a design in the plainer section. “Can you grab like four?”

“Sure.” Even carefully puts them in the cart. “You sure you don’t want something more fancy?”

Isak shrugs. “It’s just glasses. They’re fine.”

“It’s a part of your image though,” Even says. “Think of all the guests you’re having, they’re all going to be influenced by your choice of glasses.”

“Really?” Isak asks, shaking his head. “You think Magnus is going to judge me based on glasses? I once saw him putting flowers in an old bean jar.”

Even snorts. “Why did he have flowers in the first place?”

“To impress a girl he was having over,” Isak says.

“Well, there you go,” Even says. “What if you’re having someone over that you want to impress?”

“I don’t.”

“Ever?” Even asks, pausing to run over a display of velvet tablecloths.

“No,” Isak says.

Even nods, continues on to the next section, examining the plates on display. “These are nice.”

“They’re just as plain as my glasses,” Isak says. 

“I don’t have anyone to impress either,” Even says with a smile, the words more a confession than a joke.

 

They reach the restaurant, Even getting in line while Isak fights his way to an empty table in the distant corner of the seating area. He sends a text to Even to guide him, getting a thumbs up in return.

Already bored, Isak scrolls through their message thread for a while. His and Even’s conversation has increased exponentially during the last few weeks, a clear contrast to how it was before the trip. 

Some of the older exchanges are almost painfully stark on Isak’s part.

 

_Just thought I’d check whether you have a ride to the airport. I’m driving, so I can take you if you’d planned on going by bus or anything!_

_that’s okay, getting a ride from jonas._

_Cool! So ready for this trip! Gonna be amazing_

Two hours later, Isak had replied with a 100 emoji.

 

_Weird question, but do you know anything about jellyfish? My baby cousin is asking and I wanna sound smart._

_no, sorry._

_We’re watching Finding Nemo and she’s got a million questions about the sea now._

 

_At the library, and one guy just coughed all over his ref books. Feeling solidarity with you and your library pals._

_haha thx_

 

_I’m guessing you heard about the breakup. I hope this doesn’t mean we can’t still be friends._

_that’s up to sonja_

_I totally get that. I just thought I’d say it anyway._

 

“As ordered, meatballs and mash.” Even carefully puts down the tray, his tongue poking out in concentration.

Isak has to look away so as not to drown in guilt. He’s been doing nothing but reject any warmth from Even practically since they met and still, Even’s persisted in being his friend. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Even smiles. “Thank you for coming with.”

Isak shrugs. “I needed some stuff, so.”

“Right.” Even passes Isak a glass of sparkling water. “It’s free refill, and I didn’t know what you wanted so I just got water for the first one.”

“That’s fine.” Isak digs into his food, trying not to pay too much attention to the other diners and compare their conversation to the ones happening around them. After a few moments of silence, Isak clears his throat. “Was there a long line?”

“No, it was alright.” Even’s gotten some sort of fish, buried under a mountain of peas.

“You didn’t get any fries or anything?”

“They’d just run out, and I didn’t want to wait,” Even says, shrugging.

“That’s not fair, you’re already paying for it,” Isak says. “Give me your plate, I’ll go and get some.”

“It’s fine,” Even says. “I don’t mind, I got extra peas and lemon.”

Isak looks at him. Even looks back.

“That’s not the same thing,” Isak says.

“Would you just eat your meatballs?” Even asks, exasperated. “If I wanted fries, I would’ve gotten fries.”

“But you got peas instead,” Isak says.

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

They’re quiet for a beat, the noise level around them steadily growing as the lunch rush continues.

Isak sneaks a look over at Even’s food, can’t help but frown. He divides a bit of mash, careful not to take any with lingonberry jam on it, and scoots his plate closer to Even’s.

“Wha-“ Before Even’s gotten the word out, Isak’s already pushed the mash over. “Oh, come on.”

“Peas don’t hold the same nutrition value as potatoes, and we’re going to have to walk all over the place to get Eskild’s stuff, and then we’re gonna carry everything to the car, and then you have to drive again, so you need the carbs.” Isak gestures a little with his fork as he speaks, accidentally getting some meatball-splatter on his shirt. “Shit.”

A napkin appears. “Thanks.” He dabs on the stain, spreading it a little more before giving up.

Even’s looking at him when Isak goes back to his food. “What?”

“Nothing.” Even takes a bite of his fish and newly acquired potatoes. “It’s good mash.”

Isak nods.

They continue to eat in a silence made bearable by Even’s lingering smile.

 

Isak is in the middle of going through all the available rugs, Even next to him with detailed comments of each. It’s nice, relaxed, comfortable even, in a way Isak’s never felt with Even before. He knows it’s because there’s no fabricated distance from his side, and he knows he can’t keep it up.

Still, he’ll allow himself to have it today. He can contain it after this, bottle it up and go back to his old ways.

“Do you… Like, do you remember anything from when we got married?” Even asks.

Nothing could have been more effective in re-directing Isak’s mind from its current train of thought. “What?”

Even shrugs. “I was just wondering.”

“Oh. No, I don’t.” Isak tries for nonchalance, letting his hand feel the soft material of a plush rug. “Do you?”

“No,” Even says. “It’s a bit of a shame, isn’t it? I mean, I know we’re getting rid of it and everything, but still. First wedding.”

“Yeah,” Isak says, his mouth going dry. “First wedding.”

“It’s almost as if we weren’t there,” Even says. “I just remember waking up the next day.”

“Too bad we didn’t have an epic quest to solve, maybe would have jogged our memory,” Isak says, desperate to get back to stable footing.

“What do you mean?”

“Like in the Hangover,” Isak says, a smile growing on its own at Even’s inevitable groan.

“Fucking Hangover,” Even mutters. “I hate that film.”

“No, you don’t. You just pretend to,” Isak says absentmindedly, pulling out a green carpet out of one of the bottom shelves. “Hey, this is nice.”

“Yeah. Is it the right size?” Even asks.

“I guess. I’ll text him and check.” He sends off a quick ask to Eskild, sending a picture along.

_YES PLEASE!!!!!!!_ is the immediate reply. Isak snorts before showing the screen to Even.

“Looks like it’s a go,” Even says. “I like his profile picture.”

Isak turns the phone back, takes a look. “Oh. Yeah, that’s from a few years ago. At Pride.”

He barely even notices it now but, back when the photo was first taken, it had required all his courage to attach it to Eskild’s contact, inviting everyone to see. Isak can still remember the feeling of the first time Jonas saw it, barely commenting on Isak’s rainbow-coloured face paint and Eskild’s smile as Isak presses a kiss to his cheek before going back to a discussion about whatever outrageous Eskild had texted.

“It’s nice.” Even touches Isak’s hand for the briefest of moments when he takes over the carpet and carefully puts it in the cart. 

Isak feels warm all over, clenching his fingers to keep the feeling afloat.

 

Loading everything into the car takes a while, a real-life game of tetris as they both bought more than planned. Eventually, it’s good enough for Isak to be able to get the trunk closed.

“Let’s never open it again,” Even says, his hair flapping down onto his forehead. “Better keep it locked up tight.”

“It’s not Pandora’s box, calm down,” Isak says. “And also, we’re going to have to go into it again when you drop me off.”

“Noooo,” Even whines, dramatically throwing himself onto the roof of the car, head bowed down. One of his arms are within reach from Isak, skin pale and dotted with birthmarks.

The possibility for closeness disappears as Isak gets into the car, fiddling with the belt for longer than necessary.

Even joins him, throwing a look into the backseat and its pile of bags. “We bought way too much stuff.”

“Yep,” Isak says. “It’s gonna be noodles for the rest of the month.”

“I like noodles,” Even says, starting the car.

“Who doesn’t?” Isak leans over to put the radio on, turning the dial onto P3. There’s a good song on. Isak turns it up, leans back and lets himself relax. He can keep this day. No matter what happens, this day is his to keep.

 

“Are you sure you like it?” Isak asks.

“Yes, Isak, I’m sure. I liked it the last time you asked it, I like it now, and I’ll like it the next time you ask too,” Eskild says, wearing the rolled-up carpet like a boa across his neck. “I told you to buy it, didn’t I?”

“Yeah. I’ll keep the receipt anyway,” Isak says, digging it up out of his pocket and putting it in the bowl on the kitchen table. “In case you change your mind. Or, like, if it breaks or something.”

“Okay,” Eskild says. “Thanks.”

Isak waves it off. “Hey, um. I need to tell you something.”

Eskild rolls out the carpet, letting it fall on the floor. “Take a seat.”

Isak rolls his eyes, but dutifully sits down next to Eskild. “It’s nice,” he says, stroking a hand against the material.

“Don’t focus on that, get on with telling me about Even so we can start in on the dissecting.”

“How do you know about Even?” Isak asks, pressure building in his chest.

“Depends on what you mean,” Eskild says. “If you mean that you got married, it’s because I have a twitter account.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do, I just haven’t told you about it,” Eskild says, looking way too smug for Isak’s liking. 

“I have, like, five followers,” Isak says.

“And I’m one of them.”

“Why would you even have a twitter account if you don’t use it?” Isak asks, crossing his arms. He leans back against the fridge, the coldness seeping through his shirt, calming him down.

Eskild raises an eyebrow. “So that I can follow you and find out when you’ve married your friends’ exes.” He scoots a little closer, resting an arm against Isak’s. “Which brings us to the second thing I know about Even, which is that you like him.”

It’s not a surprise. Isak knows that Eskild has a gift for finding out the most embarrassing things about Isak without having to do more than look. Luckily, Eskild’s never once used it against him.

There’s no point in denying. “Yeah.”

Eskild nods. “Yeah.”

The neighbour upstairs is dancing, the heavy sound of feet traveling through the floorboards. Outside, a bus pauses, the doors creaking as they open and close. Inside, silence has moved in. Eskild’s arm is warm against his, giving comfort without demand.

They stay like that for a while, long enough that a while surrenders into an hour, then another. The carpet is soft. Isak’s chest still hurts.

 

*

 

The next week pass without much substance, Isak trying to stay afloat and keep his thoughts as solution oriented as possible. He has a good shift at the library, gets through his seminar without making an idiot of himself, and fails to respond to multiple text messages, enough so that Magnus takes matters into his own hands, knocking down Isak’s door on early Saturday afternoon.

“How did you even know I was home?” Isak asks while Magnus gets his coat off.

“I didn’t,” Magnus says. “Lucky guess.”

He looks around. “You need to clean.”

“I was in the middle of it,” Isak says. “Got the dishes going right now.”

“Cool. I’ll get the vacuum.” Magnus is off towards the cleaning closet before Isak can object.

A few seconds of contemplation has Isak shrugging and returning to the kitchen. He’s really in no position to turn away cleaning support. Halfway through the dishes, he’s realized that if he were going to keep his current pace, it would take upwards of two weeks to get the whole flat clean.

Somehow, him and Magnus manage to get it done in two hours, falling down on the sofa afterwards.

“I’m gonna be so sore tomorrow,” Magnus says. “Haven’t worked out for a week.”

“Wimp,” Isak says, allowing Magnus’ shoulder punch when it comes. “Do you want food?”

“Are you cooking? Cause then I want pasta.”

“What would you want if I weren’t cooking?” Isak asks, squinting at him.

“I dunno, kebab or something.” Magnus rolls his neck. “Ugh, I hate cleaning.”

“Why did you offer then?” Isak asks.

“I wanted to help!” Magnus says.

Something warm makes place inside Isak. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Magnus pouts at him. “Will you feed me now?”

“Fine.” Isak makes the miraculous effort of getting up from the couch, pulling Magnus along. “I’ll make tomato sauce.”

“Yes!” Magnus says, raising a fist. “Pasta pals for life.”

The embarrassing thing is that Isak’s not even opposed to it.

 

“How’s your class?” Magnus asks, mouth full of spaghetti.

Isak shrugs. “It’s okay. Got an essay coming up, and then we’re moving onto… something.”

“Wow. Really committed, there,” Magnus says.

“Shut up.” Isak sweeps his remaining water, getting up to refill both his own and Magnus’ glass.

“Thanks. You coming to Jonas’ next week? You missed Thursday.”

“I know, I had to study,” Isak says. “Who won?”

“I did,” Magnus says.

“Who won?” Isak asks, raising his eyebrows.

“I did!”

“It’s rude to lie,” Isak says.

“I’m not, I really won!” Magnus says, indignant.

“You won at Fifa?”

“Oh, fuck no, but I did own everyone in Rocket League,” Magnus says, waving his fork around proudly.

“No one cares about RL,” Isak says, eyeing a multitude of tiny red spots on the table. “I just cleaned that.”

Magnus takes Isak’s receipt bowl and puts it on top of the stains. “Boom. And, yeah, people do care. Your husband does.”

“Even was there?”

“Yeah,” Magnus shrugs. “He was surprised you weren’t. Communication is very important in a relationship, you know.”

“It’s not a relationship,” Isak says, shoving more food into his mouth. “It’s not anything.”

“Okay,” Magnus says, easily following Isak’s lead. “I’m just saying, Even cares that I won.”

Isak twists his last few strands of pasta around his fork, pushing them round the sauce. “Sure he does.” It wouldn’t surprise Isak if he actually did, Even is good at caring about things. Good at showing it too, with an innate kindness Isak doesn’t possess.

“You’re mean,” Magnus says.

“What are you going to do about it?” Isak asks, smirking. 

“Destroy you next week,” Magnus says.

“I don’t know if I can make it next week,” Isak says, “I have a shit-tonne of stuff for uni.”

“Please? It’s way more fun when everyone’s there,” Magnus says. “You can study the rest of the week.”

“Maybe,” Isak says. “I’ll try.”

“Good,” Magnus says, a tiny bit of onion stuck to his chin. “I’ll send out a reminder to everyone.”

“You have food on your face,” Isak says, reaching over to flick it away.

Magnus salutes him.

 

*

 

Isak spends Sunday inside, alone, relishing in doing nothing in pyjamas, only occasionally getting up from the couch to get more food or grab another book. He’s already finished the one Sonja borrowed for him, having sent a wordy review she pretended to understand without having read any of the books in the series herself.

Isak’s new book, a fantasy novel Adam recommended, is decent enough to keep him occupied for a few hours, until he’s due for a phone call with his mum to do their weekly catch-up. He eats dry cereal for dinner and tries to plan his week. Every study session feels like lead in his brain already, all the facts he’s supposed to memorize too many and too complicated.

Sana texts him to set up a dinner thing, and he vagues his way around replying properly. He’s probably going to need all the time he can get to get the studying done, and doesn’t want to agree until he’s sure he won’t have to cancel.

 

*

 

The library is almost empty when Isak starts his shift, with most of the students already given up and gone home and the evening crowd not yet arriving.

It’s Adam and him holding down the fort with Lukas, one of the quieter guys in Adam’s class, as backup. Usually Lukas prefers to be in the return room, sorting books and shelving, which fits both Isak and Adam fine. After popping his head in and saying hi, it can be literally hours before Isak sees Lukas again, except for when they have to alternate for their breaks.

“Hey,” Isak says as he puts his books down on the desk, waving at Adam.

“What’s up? You look terrible,” Adam says.

Isak refuses to be crude behind the desk, too content with his job to risk losing it because of improper customer service, so he tries to keep the cursing out to a minimum. He hasn’t ruled out sarcasm yet though, so he goes for a big smile and a disingenuous “thanks” as a response.

Adam snorts. “Seriously, you alright?”

“Fine. Just… studying. It’s a bit much right now.”

“Ah. Sorry, bro. I just handed in my essay, so my brain is fried but my body is free.”

“Is that what you tell the girls?” Isak asks.

Adam snaps his fingers. “No, but that’s a good idea. Would you go for me if I said that?”

“You just did,” Isak points out, getting comfortable on his chair. “And no.”

Adam sighs.

“You okay?” Isak takes a closer look at him, noticing a more downtrodden look on Adam’s face than is usually present.

“Yeah. I just- I want a girlfriend. I think. I don’t know.” Adam leans his head on his hand. “Just feel like everyone else has it sorted, and then I got nothing.”

“I get that,” Isak says quietly.

“Are you really okay with the whole Even thing?” Adam asks. “I know we don’t really talk about it, but if you want to…”

“Thanks,” Isak says. It’s surprising how tempted he is to take Adam up on the offer. “I- What did he say?”

“To me? Nothing, we haven’t talked about it.”

Isak frowns. “You didn’t bring it up?”

“Of course not,” Adam says, looking a little offended. “I don’t go spreading shit I’ve been told in confidence.”

“Right, no. Sorry.”

Isak has to put the conversation on pause in order to help a student find a book on her course list, taking the long way back from the downstairs stack just to figure out how much he wants to involve Adam in his personal telenovela. It would be nice to have a somewhat outside perspective, but he can’t bring up the fact that he’s had some kind of emotional attachment to Even in a conversation with Adam without simultaneously telling one of Sonja’s friends that one of her best friends has a crush on her ex.

It’s a bit of a mess. 

By the time Isak’s back at the information desk, Adam is busy with a researcher having a scanning-problem, and after that, there’s a steady enough trickle of patrons coming through to keep them both occupied. Isak takes his break early, sitting in the back of the empty canteen and slowly sipping his coffee. As always, he brings a cup with him when he leaves, switching places with Adam and spends half-an-hour in compatible silence with Lukas.

 

When the conversation between him and Adam does start up again, it’s on a completely different subject.

“I’ve been put in charge of getting you to do the dinner,” Adam says.

Isak sighs, eyeing the phone in Adam’s hand. “Sana?”

“Yep. Can’t say no to her,” Adam says.

“That’s cause you’re a wuss,” Isak says, smiling at Adam’s indignant huff.

“I’m not a wuss, I’m just being respectful,” Adam says. “She’s my best friends’ little sister.”

“I thought Mutta was your best friend?”

Adam waves it off. “We’re all best friends.”

“Right. And you’re all wusses when it comes to Sana,” Isak says.

“Yeah, but you’re gonna do the dinner, so…” Adam leans back in his chair, forgetting it doesn’t have a backrest and nearly falls backwards. He tries to catch himself on the table, turn it into a somewhat cool, planned lean.

It’s disturbing how he almost succeeds.

“I’m not doing it,” Isak says.

“Oh, please,” Adam says, waving off Isak’s stubbornness.

Isak can’t really argue with him. He already knows he’s gonna end up a part of the dinner, voluntarily or not. He sighs. “I know. Hey, I’m sorry about before.”

“It’s alright,” Adam says. “So, you’re in?”

“I’m in.”

 

One of the disadvantages of living on his own is that most hangouts are due to take place at his place. Isak’s fine with having people over but too many of them can feel like a stampede of unwanted bison’s just entered his home, especially if Magnus is one of them. He really should have seen this coming the moment Sana mentioned having a get together, but he still thought he could escape hosting duties for once. Turns out, he was sorely mistaken.

It was supposed to just be a dinner but it’s already morphed into something else, wine bottles scattered on various tables and happy people all around. The music is on a volume low enough to still allow for conversation but loud enough that Isak can look forward to sour looks from the lady next door the coming week.

The good thing is that no one has brought people they weren’t supposed to. The bad thing is that every single person who said they’d come actually showed up. It’s a testament to how well mannered his friends are, in the same way that Isak’s surprise is a testament to Isak’s own social flaws.

The living room, kitchen and bathroom are all occupied with a few people but, on the plus side, the handmade sign on his bedroom door seems to have worked, leaving him with one less room to clean come morning.

Isak greeted everyone as they arrived, standing with Sana by the door and interspersing the coming guests with talk about people from Nissen and their current whereabouts. He doesn’t really care about any of them, but seeing Sana light up just the tiniest bit at the fact that most of the people who downplayed her intelligence and independency in school are now hopelessly stuck in their old lives makes the topic quite enjoyable.

Even came with Mikael and Mutta, giving them both quick hugs. Isak compensated the racing of his heart at the touch with a longer, over-the-top cuddle session with Mutta directly afterwards, going with the flow as Mutta wrapped Isak up in his arms, complaining about how they never see each other.

By the time they’d released each other, both Mikael and Even had disappeared into the crowd, leaving only Sana and her eye rolling to judge them.

“But for real, can we hang out more? Adam’s hogging you, I don’t like it,” Mutta says, a hand on Isak’s shoulder.

“Sure, of course,” Isak says.

“Great! Oh, and Elias says that he’ll be by later and that he’s bringing the cake,” Mutta says, turning to Sana.

“Good,” she says.

“There’s going to be cake?” Isak asks. “What kind?”

“My mother’s kind,” Sana says. 

Isak and Mutta high-five.

 

It’s odd, spending so much time actively not thinking about something and then having to encounter that something in real life. Even and Sonja are off to one side in the kitchen, standing close together and laughing, the spitting image of how they used to be back when they were still officially together. Isak throws them both a smile before returning to the makeshift dance floor, shuffling along when Eva pulls him into the centre of it. She’s always been an enthusiastic dancer, and even though her alcohol consumption has lessened significantly as she’s gotten into to her twentieth birthday, she’s a little too clumsy on her feet right now to be completely sober.

It’s as much of a public safety measure as it is out of friendship that Isak steers them to the edge of the crowd, letting her wrap her arms around him and tug him closer.

“I like your flat,” she says.

“Thanks. I like _your_ flat,” Isak says.

She bops his nose. “Thank you. Bet you wish we were there right now, having a party instead of here.”

“It’s not a party,” Isak says.

Eva looks around. “You sure?”

“Yep. Sana says it’s a dinner, so it’s a dinner.”

“Grown ups have dinner parties. We could be doing that,” Eva says.

“We’re not grown ups,” Isak says, but he knows that’s an argument that can’t be used the same way as a few years ago. Scary as it is, they’re closer to being actual adults now than they’ve ever been before. He prefers not to think about it.

“Well. Kinda? I mean, not me, cause I’m drunk. But Jonas is an adult,” Eva says, leaning in closer. “At least he does adult things, if you know what I mean.”

“Okay, jesus, Eva,” Isak says, pulling back. “Don’t want to hear about that. Let’s just find him.”

“Yay! I love finding Jonas, I’ve done it twice,” Eva says.

A sliver of warmth goes through Isak, knowing that he’s only partially responsible for her needing two tries. In the end, it’s all over and done with, and going by how Jonas lights up when they approach, they’re not going to need a third.

“Hey!” Eva says, lifting one of Jonas’ arms to wrap around herself.

“Hey, you.” Jonas hands his beer to Isak, who takes a sip. “Having fun?”

“Yeah, it’s alright,” Isak says.

“You hate it,” Jonas says, “all these people in your space?”

“True, but at least it’s people I know,” Isak says. He takes a lean next to Jonas, the cold wall a pleasant relief. “How you doing?”

“Better now,” Jonas says, shifting his grip on Eva. “Always a little worried this one is gonna dance into something expensive.”

“Isak doesn’t have anything expensive,” Eva says, giving Jonas a kiss on the cheek. “So, problem solved.”

“Good point,” Jonas says. “Guess I’ve been fine all night, then. Food was good.”

“Right? I’ve gotten way better. Mum got me a cookbook,” Isak says.

“She did?” Magnus says, having just collapsed next to Isak along the wall. “That’s so nice. I want a cookbook.”

“Would you ever use it?” Isak asks, raising a pointed eyebrow.

“No, but it’d be nice to have,” Magnus says. “Have you guys seen Mahdi?”

“Probably in the kitchen,” Isak says. “Or with Mutta.”

Magnus hums. “Do you ever miss when it was just the four of us?” He looks up at Isak. “Like, at Nissen?”

Isak thinks it over, sliding down to sit next to Magnus. “No,” he says.

“Me neither,” Magnus says, taking the offered beer from Isak. “But I feel like I should.”

Isak shrugs. “Maybe. It’s better now, though.”

“What is?”

“Everything.” Isak hardly has time to think back, but if he does, his Nissen years are mostly a blur of random parties, hiding, studying, hiding, hooking up, hiding, trying to scramble together a connection with his parents, hiding and graduating. Not coming out until the first term of uni was his own choice, and even though he could’ve done without the immense self control he forced himself into for years, he’s happy he did it.

He was ready, when he came out. He had Sana, and Sonja, and all the friends that came with her. Eskild and Linn. Jonas and Mahdi.

“You’re probably right,” Magnus says.

Isak looks over at him. He’s had Magnus too, from the first day he had to set boundaries over sexual questions to today, when he’s had three different texts from Magnus, all detailing hot guys he’d seen on the tram and asking if he should get their numbers.

“You’ve spaced out,” Magnus says.

“No, I haven’t. I was just thinking,” Isak says. “I understand if it’s a weird concept for you.”

Magnus scoffs. “I think more than you.”

“Mhm.” He already knows his smirk is going to get him shoved, but he keeps it anyway.

Magnus’ retribution comes milliseconds before an amused voice cuts into the conversation. “Am I allowed to join the inner circle?”

Isak looks up at her. “Of course.”

“Thanks,” Sonja says, sitting down on Magnus’ other side.

“Are we the inner circle?” Magnus asks. “That is so cool, I’ve never been that before.”

“With good reason,” Isak says.

Magnus empties the beer. “See what happens when you’re rude?”

“That was Jonas’,” Isak says. He leans forward to get eye contact with Sonja. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good. I was just talking to Even, I’ve missed him. Feel like he’s been all over the place lately, with the film and all.” She smiles. “You?”

“Good,” Isak says, nodding a couple of times too many. He can’t think of a smooth way to change the subject, so he goes for “Elias is bringing cake,” and hopes for the best.

“Cake? Like, birthday cake?” Magnus asks, face scrunched up. “It’s not your birthday.”

“No, like, chocolate cake. The hazelnut one?”

“Oh, fuck, really? Why did you give me beer?” Magnus asks. “I’m not gonna be able to eat as much now.”

“Maybe that’s why,” Isak says.

Magnus sighs. “I love that cake.”

“Is it the one with the frosting?” Sonja asks, beaming when Isak nods. “Awesome."

Magnus suddenly laughs, startling both Sonja and Isak. “Fuck, I forgot that you’re married to Even. That’s your ex,” he says, pointing at Sonja. “That’s so weird.”

“Thanks, Mags,” Isak mutters, ignoring the shame curling in his gut.

“It is a bit weird, yeah. You never told me of your intentions,” she says.

Isak is about to reply when he realizes she wasn’t talking to him.

“Well, I’m a gentleman,” Even says as he sits down in front of the three of them, long legs folded like a pretzel. It shouldn’t be allowed to be attractive. A lot of things about Even shouldn’t be allowed. “And you never share your intentions outside of the family of your intended.”

Isak would reply, but he needs to swallow down the wave of feelings first. It’s a tough mixture, guilt and adoration rolled into one, unsure which is supposed to give way for the other.

Magnus takes his place, eyes wide. “Wait, you asked Isak’s parents?”

“Yes, I called them completely wasted and asked Isak’s parents if I could drunk-marry him,” Even says, face completely serious. “It was a great first meeting, despite being over the phone.”

“Wow,” Magnus breathes out.

Isak elbows him rather harshly. “He’s fucking with you.”

“No,” Magnus says, looking between them. Even starts to crack. “No?”

Even laughs. “Yes. It wasn’t exactly planned.”

Isak snatches back the empty beer bottle from Magnus, rolling it between his hands. He keeps his eyes on it, despite feeling the warmth of Even’s on him.

“Have you figured out a way to get out of it yet?” Sonja asks.

“I did a little bit of research on it,” Even says. “Apparently, you have to do it both in the states and here, since we got married there.”

Isak looks up. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“I was about to,” Even says. “I haven’t had the time yet.”

“Okay.” Isak goes back to his bottle.

“Well, the sooner the better I guess,” Sonja says.

Isak nods, keeps her eye and slowly contorts his face until she starts laughing.

“Idiot,” she says, crawling over Magnus’ legs to sit down next to Isak. “Hi.”

“Hello.” Isak wraps an arm around her, reminiscent of the times he would to project the appearance of being interested in her, having long conversation under the guise of outrageous flirting. When Sonja smiles up at him, he knows she’s thinking of the same thing.

“I’m here!” Elias’ voice manages to be heard over everything else, making the entire party pause before bursting out in applause as he dramatically reveals his plastic bag with a well-known Tupperware container. “And so is The Cake.”

More applause follows. Elias takes a bow, nearly upending the whole thing on the floor. “Oh, shit.”

If he hadn’t managed to recover it, odds are he would have been escorted out of the building for a lengthy time-out. Luckily, all is saved and things can proceed as planned. That doesn’t mean Sana halts in her way over, swiftly grabbing the bag out of Elias’ hand.

“You’re late.”

“You’re welcome,” Elias says, giving her a hug.

Sana gives the smallest of smiles. “Get off me.”

He transfers her arm to lie over her shoulders, following her as she walks out into the kitchen.

“Well, I’m off,” Magnus says, pulling himself up. “You want me to get you a slice?”

“Yes, please,” Sonja says.

“Yeah,” Isak says, rolling his eyes when Magnus gives him a look. “Please.”

“I’ll go with you,” Even says, getting up. “Can’t carry all the plates on your own.”

“Thanks, man,” Magnus says, enveloping Even in a hug before happily dragging him along to the kitchen.

Isak tries not to catalogue all their points of contact. He looks to Sonja instead. “It’s good cake.”

She nods. “It’s good cake.”

They sit in companionable silence, not needing anything other than looks to communicate their thoughts about various things around them. It’s comforting, having someone who knows him this well close. Sometimes he wonders how she hasn’t grown sick of him yet, with him being two years younger and angrier than most. Other times, he accepts it without hesitation.

Today is the latter.

 

After cake, there’s more dancing, and after dancing, there’s dancing without music since Isak has a limit to how far he allows his neighbours’ patience to be pushed. Everyone finally files out around half past one, waving frenetically as they walk down the stairs. Isak waves back and takes a breath of relief when he closes the door after the last ones.

Except.

Someone’s still in the flat, sound of dishes being moved coming from the kitchen. Isak tip-toes over, wanting the upper hand on whoever’s left.

It’s Even. Even, with his tight jeans and soft hair. Even, with his never-relenting sense of manners, who always helps clean up even though no one’s asked him to. Even, idealized and romanticized to no end in order for Isak to keep seeing him as unattainable.

“Do you have any bags for the cans and bottles?” Even asks.

Isak should’ve known Even knew he was watching. “Yeah, I’ll get one.”

“Cool. I put the rest of the food in the fridge,” Even says. “I guessed you wanted to keep it.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Isak says, digging around for a bag. “You didn’t have to stay.”

“I wanted to.” Even takes the offered bag, stuffing it with cans and bottles. “Don’t forget to bring these to the shop when you go.”

“I won’t.” He definitely will.

“Alright, I think that’s the last of it.” Even puts the bag down, turning around to lean against the counter. He looks good, a little tired but still energetic as he smiles over at Isak. “Did you have a good night?”

Isak shrugs. “It was fun.”

“Good.” Even looks down. “Good.”

It’s quiet for a moment, Isak searching for a safe topic of conversation, not wanting Even to go just yet. He’s beaten to the point.

“Can I ask you something?” Even says, hesitant.

Isak hates seeing him nervous, tamping down the initial instinct to soothe. “Sure.”

“It’s a little awkward.”

“That’s fine,” Isak says. Whatever uncomfortable question may arise, surely he can turn it around. He’s gotten good at twisting things into something sustainable.

“Okay. I- You never touch me,” Even says, his eyes coming up to meet Isak’s.

“What?”

Even takes a step closer. Isak moves back.

“See?” Even’s voice is too soft for the accusation. “Every time I try, you move away.”

Isak has ice in his chest. “I just… don’t like it,” he says, the lie rolling off his tongue easier than he’d like. “I’m not very touchy with people.”

“Yes, you are. Just not with me.” Even crosses his arms, a defence mechanism more than a stance. “And I just thought. Why not?”

“I don’t know,” Isak says. “We just don’t have that kind of relationship.”

“We’re married,” Even says.

“No, we’re not.”

Even takes a slow breath. “Yes, we are. I know you have issues with this whole thing, but-“

“What, and you don’t?” Isak intervenes.

“-you can’t just pretend it didn’t happen,” Even continues, undeterred. “We got married. I married you.”

“Yeah, thanks, I noticed,” Isak says. He’s not quite been able to shake the made up memory of a ring on his finger, thumb automatically moving to stroke the empty skin where metal should be, over and over until he’s once again convinced there’s nothing there.

“Did you? Because it doesn’t seem like it,” Even says.

“What, do you want me to pretend that this is real?” Isak asks, feeling anger starting to build up. “We were drunk, and this stupid thing happened. What does it matter?”

“It matters,” Even bites out, “because you married me. You did. Even though you were drunk, you still made that decision.”

Isak sits down on one of his rickety kitchen chairs, leaning his head against his hands. “I don’t get you.”

“I don’t get you either,” Even says. “That’s kind of my point.”

Isak keeps his eyes closed, trying to focus on anything but the implications his mind wants to push onto Even’s words.

He feels rather than sees Even sit down on the other side of the table. “Can you just tell me if it’s something that I did?”

“It’s not something that you did,” Isak says, happy that he can at least be honest in this.

“Is it something that someone else did?” Even asks. “Like, did someone say something that made this so uncomfortable for you that you… don’t want to be close to me?”

Images of weeks, months, years of Sonja’s face, words and expressions flit through Isak’s mind. “It’s not something someone else did.”

The lie is obvious.

Even stays quiet for a full minute. Then, he gets up and walks out the door, closing it softly behind him. 

Isak keeps sitting on the couch for another hour. No matter how he tries, he can’t seem to move.

 


	2. book recommendations and notepad lists

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's easy to stick to principles if they're never tested.

The morning after feels awkward, despite Isak spending it alone. He’s uncomfortable, trying to sit down to watch a show Jonas’ been begging him to get through, but the characters all melt together and the storylines makes no sense.

He texts Jonas, saying that he’s started and likes it so far. There’s a limit to how many people he can allow himself to disappoint in a week, so he has to white lie his way out of some of them.

Jonas sends an excited response, along with a reminder to get better at coming to game nights. His answer is waylaid by another message, from Sana this time.

_Are you doing anything today?_

_not really, why?_

_I need a sounding board._

It’s not a difficult decision. _come over._

She’s wrapped up in her softest sweatshirt with a faded basketball-logo on, her hands already flying through the air as she tugs her shoes and jacket off.

“So, the plan was to stay in Oslo, right?”

“Right,” Isak says, carefully leading her into the living room.

“Yeah, but now I’m thinking if I want to become the best in the field, I should have the best around me, right?”

“Right.” They sit down, Sana on the couch, Isak on the table opposite her. Sana likes to keep eye contact when she’s arguing, and it’s easier from this standpoint than next to her on the couch. He’s had to learn that lesson the hard way, his neck still not completely over it.

“That’s not here. That’s in Stockholm or Gothenburg or Copenhagen.”

“Or Lund,” Isak says.

“Yes. So I should go there, right?” She leans in. “I want to be really fucking good at this.”

“I know.” Isak reaches over to grab a notepad and a stolen library pen. “What are your Oslo reasons?”

She takes a deep breath. “Family. Friends. It’s comfortable. I know the professors, and the teachers, and I can probably count on a job after graduating. The language.”

Isak dutifully writes them down. “And it’s cheaper to live at home, you know your way around the city, won’t have to pay for flights home for holidays and stuff.”

She nods. “That too. Okay, reasons for leaving.”

Isak turns to the next page. “Hit me.”

“They have more funding for research. More high profile hospitals, with more resources.”

“And specialities?” Isak asks.

“Yeah, exactly. It looks better on a resume, I can get better references, learn a lot.” She leans back. “It won’t be a problem to pay for it, cause it’s Nordic countries, and my degree will be just as valid as one I get here.”

“Yep,” Isak says, writing down the bullet points.

“That’s it.”

Isak glances through the lists. “Okay, so basically your reasons for staying are personal, and your reasons for leaving are professional.”

Sana sighs. “I know.”

“Can I ask something? Why do you need to do this now, why not wait until you’ve gotten through school and everything, and then get a job at one of those hospitals?”

“It’ll be harder to get in by then,” Sana says. “It’s better if they already know me, if I’ve worked with them before.”

“Right, okay.” Isak puts the notepad down in order to look at her properly. “Is it worth it, though?”

She folds her hands. Shrugs. “It should be.”

“That doesn’t mean that it is,” Isak says, sliding over to take a seat on the couch.

They stay quiet for a while, before Sana wrinkles her nose. “Is that the recycle from the dinner?”

The bags are still in the hallway. “Yeah.”

“You haven’t taken them to the store yet?”

“It was yesterday!” Isak says.

“Slob,” she says.

“Technically, you should take them since you were hosting,” Isak says. “It’s your mess.”

“Yeah, but that’s not gonna happen,” she says.

“I know.” Isak reaches for the remote, turning on the TV. “You want to watch something?”

“Sure.”

He zaps through the channels until a familiar programme makes him pause. He puts down the remote.

“What is this?” Sana asks, sounding both confused and quite judgemental.

“It’s about antiques,” Isak says. “It’s, like, historical and stuff.”

“Okay,” she says. “I’m gonna need some tea.”

“It’s in the cabinet,” Isak says, snorting when he gets a death glare. “Fine, I’ll make it.”

“Thank you,” she says, her voice following him out to the kitchen.

They both know it’s not just for the tea.

 

*

 

Every time Isak opens his textbooks, time seems to slow down. He’s carved out three hours to get through two chapters of academia-clouded explanations for things he Needs To Know, but it just doesn’t seem to work.

There’s a seminar in two weeks he already knows he won’t be ready for, and an examination he dreads to fail. He doesn’t have time to retake it if he doesn’t get it on the first try, because the moment they’re done with one part of the course, he needs to start cramming for the next one.

An hour in, he makes the mistake of opening his browser, going through all the regular scrolling motions of social media he’s been trying to get rid of. After a minute, or thirty, of doing nothing, he opens a new tab.

_how to get divorced after marrying in usa_

129 million hits. Isak starts scrolling.

 

It takes a while, but it does start to clear up. Apparently, since they’ve managed to get a certificate signed, they’ve registered for it during the same day and picked it up before going to the chapel. Isak doesn’t want to think about him having that kind of drive whilst being off his face, doesn’t want to think about the reasons for his past self being that determined to get it done. The implications of his actions makes his head hurt.

_remind me to never get drunk again,_ he texts Jonas.

_You got drunk without me????_

_not now, vegas. divorce shit is complicated as hell_

He closes out of the tag, not wanting to read anything more about it. Hopefully, Even will have gotten further on his end. It’s probably unfair to put the responsibility on him, but Isak doesn’t have a good track record to being fair to Even, so he figures this’ll just pile on Isak’s already horrific karma.

_I legit forget that happened_ , Jonas replies. _You must have been so out of it_ , _you usually don’t even talk to the dude._

_i know, right? anyway, have to get back 2 studying if i wanna make game night_

_You better show up!_

_shut up and let me study then,_ Isak writes back, smiles when he gets the middle finger-emoji back.

He straightens his shoulders and takes a deep breath before going back to his book. He needs to get this right, faster than he currently is. He just needs to be a little better, and then everything is going to work out.

 

*

 

Isak doesn’t quite manage to work his way through all the chapters, but he’s come far enough that he can justify going to Jonas’ the following night. Magnus is still in the hall when Isak gets there, in the middle of unwrapping his enormous purple scarf from around his neck.

“Hey!” Magnus holds out for a fist bump, struggling a little not to get caught in the fabric he’s still tangled in.

“Hey,” Isak says, pulling the scarf from Magnus’ neck.

“Thanks.” Magnus kicks off his shoes. “You ready to get beaten?”

“I don’t have to be, because I’m gonna win,” Isak says. He hangs his jacket up on a proper hanger, an old habit from decades of visiting the house. “Is anyone home?”

“Nah, just us,” Jonas says. “Mum says hi, though.”

Isak nods. “Mahdi here yet?”

“Yep, he’s downstairs. Mutta and Even too.” Jonas takes the way by the kitchen, grabbing a few drinks on the way.

Isak takes half of them and shoves them into Magnus’ hands, taking the rest himself.

“How did studying go?” Jonas asks.

“Fine,” Isak says. “Just sick of it.”

“Get a little drunk tonight, and then go home and cram,” Magnus says. “That always works for me.”

“You’re studying to be a kindergarten teacher,” Jonas says. “I don’t think that’s on the same level as Isak’s shit.”

“Um, yeah it is. You have to know a lot, actually,” Magnus says. “I’m basically gonna teach them everything.”

They get downstairs and are met with Mutta and Mahdi laughing uproariously while Even looks a little pink.

“What’s going on?” Jonas asks.

“Nothing,” Even says. “They’re being idiots.”

“Okay, alright,” Mutta says. “We won’t tell.”

Isak doesn’t believe him for a second, proven right when Mutta caves the moment their eyes meet.

“Even doesn’t know what an offside is.”

Mahdi falls back into laughter. Magnus looks appalled. “What?”

“I do know what it is,” Even protests. “I just… forgot for a second.”

“You didn’t forget,” Mutta says. “How have you been playing Fifa for this long and never understood one of the most basic rules of the game?”

“I don’t know! It’s not that important,” Even says. “Fuck you.”

“Hey, no, I’m sorry,” Mutta says, leaning into Even. “I’ll explain it to you.”

“Let Magnus do it, he’s getting ready to teach kids everything,” Isak says. He’s unsure of his footing, more so than usual, but it gets a little clearer when Even gives him a polite smile.

Isak can deal with polite, it’s actually way better than what he had hoped for. Staying on the other end of the couch, Isak makes sure there’s at least one person in between them for the rest of the night, even though seats alternate as they get up and switch between games.

It’s nice, not having the pressure to do anything but enjoy himself for an entire evening. He’s been laden with work, studying and worrying for the last few weeks and, even though one of the main reasons of his worry is currently in the room, it manages to remain a stress-free evening.

He even let’s Magnus almost win one, allowing him to keep his two-goal lead until there’s five minutes left. Isak proceeds to the semi finals, Magnus proceeds to pout in the corner.

Mahdi wins the semi, and Isak throws his hands up in faux-rage before going up the stairs to steal a cup of coffee.

He finds the yellow mug in the mess of the cupboard, still fitting perfectly in his hand. As he pours, he can hear footsteps in the stairs. “Can I get one too?”

“Sure,” Isak says, pulling out another mug. He hands the yellow one to Even. “It’s black.”

“That’s fine,” Even says, folding both hands around it.

Isak busies himself with pouring another, the cup carrying a picture of Bob the Builder. He adds two cubes of sugar before turning around.

“So,” Even says.

Isak nods.

“Didn’t even make it to the final.” Even raises his eyebrows.

“Shut up, you didn’t make it past the first round,” Isak says, taking a sip of coffee.

“Well, yeah, but I don’t pretend to be good at Fifa,” Even says.

“I should hope not, if you don’t even know what offside is.”

Even sighs dramatically. “I _do_ know what it is!”

“Of course you do,” Isak says. He can’t help but smile when Even throws him a dirty look. “Hey, I’m… I’m really sorry for the other day, I-“

“It’s fine,” Even says, pointedly waving it off.

“Okay.” Isak shifts a little awkwardly, the worktop sharp against his back. “I looked up some stuff about the divorce.”

“Oh, good,” Even says. “Did you find anything?”

“Not really. It was a lot of legal gibberish, but I think you’re right. We need to get it processed in both countries.”

“Yeah. My uncle is a lawyer, I’m thinking about asking him for help.” Even clears his throat. “You know, just to speed things up. Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“Definitely. The sooner, the better, right?” Isak says, conscious in his quoting of Sonja.

“Right. I’ll call him, then.” Even gestures towards the stairs. “I’m gonna get back. There might be a miracle where Mutta wins, don’t want to miss that.”

“It’s a miracle he’s even in the final,” Isak says. He follows Even, letting his eyes rest a little too long on the long line of his neck, the hair that so gently touches it.

Shakes it off before they re-join their friends on the couch. All he needs to focus on right now is the divorce. Nothing else.

 

“Let me know when you’re free next,” Jonas says, as Isak is putting on his shoes. “We need to hang out.”

“I will.” Isak leans in for a quick hug. When he pulls back, Even is watching them from the kitchen doorway. Isak flushes, busies himself with the last buttons of his coat, pulling the door open. “See ya.”

He walks down the street with his hands deep in his pockets and his head even lower. He tries to listen for eventual sounds coming from the house left behind, but there’s nothing.

He walks home alone, taking the longer way just to stay out of the flat a little longer. Lately, it’s been too cold despite the heating working perfectly.

 

*

 

Sitting in a bar at a table ladled with drinks is probably not the wisest decision Isak’s made lately. Mixing the alcohol with Sonja is another bad choice.

They’re about three drinks in when Even walks through the door, surrounded by friends Isak doesn’t know. Judging by the way Sonja smiles at them, she most likely does.

Isak shrinks back a little into the wall, trying to be invisible enough for Even not to notice him, despite Even waving a greeting to Sonja.

“Did you invite him?” Sonja asks. “We should have them sit with us.”

“No,” Isak says, hastily putting a hand on her arm when she moves to gesture them over. “Please don’t.”

“Are you okay?” she asks, frowning a little. “I thought everything was fine, you seemed okay at the dinner thing.”

He shrugs. “It’s just weird. I don’t know, I’d rather wait to hang out with him until the divorce is done.”

She laughs, snorting a little into her wine. “Right. Fuck, you’re married. I keep forgetting.”

“Good,” he says quietly, a little too tipsy to care. “One of us should.”

“Hey,” she says, leaning over the table to give him a clumsy hug, stroking a hand up and down his back. “I don’t want you to be sad.”

“I’m not sad.” 

She keeps hugging him. “Okay.”

 

“Have you slept with him?” Sonja asks, a few hours later. They’re both drunk, glass-eyed in a way they usually don’t allow themselves to get.

“What?” Isak’s head snaps up way too quickly for the amount of alcohol it’s currently swimming in.

“Have you?” Sonja squints at him, trying to get a read of his expression.

“No, of course not. What the fuck?” His voice goes a little high, but it’s an honest sort of panic, so he lets it be.

She nods slowly. “Have you kissed him?”

“No,” he says, meeting her gaze head on. Despite his reoccurring wishes, this is the absolute truth.

She purses her lips. “Why not?”

He stares at her, her contours gone slightly blurry. “What do you mean?”

“Why haven’t you kissed him?”

There is probably a correct answer to this, a pattern for his speech to follow but Isak doesn’t have the script. “You’re my best friend.”

She frowns, biting her lip. “That’s the only reason?”

Isak senses danger, tries another way. “I don’t want to.” The lie rolls easily off his tongue, a sentence practiced inside his head for years. “Not into him.”

“Okay. Well, good,” she says. “That would have been a bit shit.” She takes a sip of her drink, winces a little as she swallows.

Despite the dull ache in Isak’s chest, he can’t help but smile at her.

“What?” she asks.

“Stop drinking wine, you know you hate it,” Isak says.

“Never,” she says, adding a dramatic hand gesture. “I’ve decided to be a wine person, and that’s what I’ll be.”

“Even if you don’t like it?”

“We all make sacrifices for our artistic image,” she says, nose in the air. “This is the path I’ve chosen.”

Isak laughs a little, leans over to switch their drinks. “Well, now I’ve decided to be a wine dude, so you can just sit there with my beer and be grateful.”

He takes a drink under her raised eyebrows. It tastes vile. “It’s so sour. Why is it so sour? Fucking hell.”

Sonja snorts, toasts him with his almost-full beer glass. “Enjoy.”

He gives her the finger. Tries to down it in one. 

They talk about everything except Even after that, a well-known pattern in all Isak’s conversations, especially of late.

 

Walking home, Isak can feel half his mind wanting to give into the pressure lurking on top of his chest for way too long, lie down flat on the sidewalk until he feels alright again. The other half is safer in its numbness, is familiar in staying empty. He sticks with the latter.

 

*

 

In order to boost his productivity, Isak sets up camp at the public library, stealing an entire table for himself on the highest floor with a nice view of the city. He has everything organized, all he needs to do is start.

The view proves to be distracting. He reads a page. Takes some notes. Watches the people outside the window. There are quite a few, busy with every-day life on a random Monday. Forcing himself back to the page, he gets through another few paragraphs before once again succumbing to the temptation of doing nothing.

“Excuse me?”

He turns towards the voice, recognising the woman on sight. “Hi!”

“Hi, I’m sorry, you’re the librarian I met the other week, right?”

“Isak, yeah.” He smiles up at her.

“I’m Marika, I don’t remember if I introduced myself,” she says, holding out her hand.

Isak shakes it.

“Are you busy?” Marika asks.

“Not really,” he says, pointedly ignoring the books screaming to be studied.

“Oh, good. I was just wondering if you could help me find some books?” She looks way more uncertain than she did a few seconds ago.

“Yeah, sure. What are you looking for?” Isak asks, pulling his bag away from one of the chairs, pushing it out a little.

“Thanks,” Marika says, taking a seat. “Well, you remember my kids? Alfons, the youngest, he has this teacher, and he’s been asking a lot of questions that I don’t really know how to answer.”

“Alright,” Isak says. “What kind of questions?”

“Well,” she says. “They were talking about families, and Alfons said that he only sees his dad sometimes, but that he lives with his mum.” She throws Isak a quick look, as if to gather his reaction.

Isak carefully keeps his expression calmly interested. He’s in no position to judge anyone else’s family constellation. “Okay.”

“Right, and then the other kids talked about who they lived with, and Alfons asked who the teacher lived with,” Marika says. “And she said that she lives with her wife.”

Trepidation seeps into Isak’s skin, but he fights it, still wanting to give her the benefit of the doubt, despite the world proving time and time again that it’s a dangerous game to play. “And he’s been asking about it?”

She nods. “Yeah. And, I mean. I don’t know, I don’t have any friends who are gay, and I’m not, and his dad isn’t, and- I don’t want to say the wrong thing.”

It seems that there’s still hope for humanity. “So, you’re okay with it?”

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?” She looks up, the genuine confusion on her face Isak’s last piece of required evidence. “I just want to find some books that talk about that, so we can read them and he can get a better picture of it.”

Isak smiles at her. “I can help with that.”

“Really? That’d be great,” Marika says, relaxing a little.

Isak turns to his laptop, going to the library website. “No problem. How old is he?”

“He’s seven.” She pauses for a moment. “Actually, could we check for books for Maja as well? She’s nine.”

“Sure,” Isak says, adjusting the search.

“I’m guessing she’s gonna have questions as well,” Marika says. “This way I’m better prepared.”

Isak nods, scrolling through the results. “There are some good ones, let me just check the list a little before we go to the shelves." 

Marika smiles. “Of course.”

 

She ends up leaving with books not only on queer parents, but also on families with adopted children and some mystery books with main characters that live with extended family. Isak tries to sneak in as many diverse narratives as he can, genuinely feeling like he’s made a difference when he waves Marika off by the check out.

 

The rest of his study day goes a lot better, fuelled by all his newfound positive energy. As he gets ready to leave, his phone buzzes.

_Talked to my uncle, and he’s already gotten started. My mum badgered him into doing it for free, so at least we won’t go broke! He says we probably won’t have to do more than fill out some forms and sign some stuff, since there’s no bad blood or anything._

Thirty seconds later, another one comes in.

_I mean, unless you have some reason to object to a friendly divorce? I promise I’m not secretly rich or something, so you don’t have to worry about getting snubbed._

Isak’s fingers stumble across the screen. _haha no i’m cool_

_Great! We need to celebrate then!_ _I’ll come over to make dinner! Prepare to be AMAZED._

The thrill going through Isak’s chest is dangerous and should be put down. He’s ashamed for allowing it to live a few seconds too long. _tonight?_

_Yeah, if that’s okay? Are you busy?_

Isak bites his lip. _on my way home from lib_

_Cool, I’ll meet you at the grocery store by your house._  

Isak does a quick jog all the way to the tram.

 

Even’s wearing a gigantic jacket and sneakers, jumping a little on the spot as Isak comes within reach. “It’s really cold.”

“Well, yeah, if you’ve got shit shoes on,” Isak says. “Don’t you have boots?”

“Don’t like them,” Even says. “Too loud when you’re filming.”

That makes some sort of sense. “Are we going in?” Isak asks, gesturing towards the shop.

“After you,” Even says.

They go in and grab a basket, Isak holding it in front of him like a shield, happy when Even doesn’t fight him for it.

“What are you in the mood for?” Even asks as they pass the bread section.

“I thought you were cooking,” Isak says.

“Yeah, but I can cook a lot of different stuff,” Even says. “You need to get me some hints first.”

“Okay. I’d like… fish, maybe?”

“Like salmon?” Even purses his lips. “I could do that.”

“With potatoes? And cucumber,” Isak says, looking over at Even.

“Cucumber? Why?” Even smiles at him.

Isak looks away, shrugs. “I don’t know, I like it.”

“We can have cucumber,” Even says. “You want it pickled?”

“What, like, homemade pickled?” Isak asks.

Even nods.

“Who are you, my grandma? Who pickles cucumber?” Isak smiles against his better judgement, too fond to fight it.

“I do,” Even says. “And I’m gonna teach you, so that you’ll start as well. Form an alliance.”

“Wow.”

“Oh, and then we could have it around our house,” Even says.

Isak ignores the sudden warmth in his chest. “What are you even talking about?”

“You know,” Even says, pausing dramatically. “A pickled fence.”

“No.” Isak halts in the middle of the dairy aisle. “No, no, no. You didn’t.”

“I so did,” Even says. He reaches over to pull on Isak’s sleeve. “Come on, I need some crème fraiche for the sauce.”

They get out of the shop fifteen minutes later, three bags filled with stuff Isak’s not sure they need. Half of it seems not to be related to their meal at all, but Even seemed so sure it didn’t even occur to Isak to protest.

 

Back at Isak’s flat, Even’s makes himself at home, putting the food away. It fills up most of the fridge and the pantry, providing stuff for the gaps that have been building up the last few weeks.

“Have you been snooping around in here?” Isak asks.

Even looks slightly ashamed, though not nearly close to how Isak would’ve looked, had it been him getting caught. “Maybe? I needed plates for the cake at the party.”

“So what, you checked the pantry?” Isak asks. “Also, it wasn’t a party.”

“Some people keep them in there,” Even says.

“And the fridge?”

“I needed ice, and your freezer compartment is right there!” Even puts the last can of tomatoes on the shelf. “And it was definitely a party.”

“No, it wasn’t. I can’t have parties,” Isak says.

“Says who?” Even frowns.

“My neighbour. She’s always pissed at me for having people over, but she can’t be pissed about us eating, so it’s always just dinner,” Isak says.

“Ah. Bullet proof,” Even smiles.

Isak shrugs. “It’s worked so far.” He narrows his eyes. “We’re still not done talking about how you did my shopping just now.”

“No big deal,” Even says. “I should do it while I have the chance, right? Soon we’ll be back to being friends and not husbands, and then I can’t justify spending time shopping basic food supplies for you.”

“Whatever,” Isak says, needing a quick getaway. “Can I help with the cooking?”

Even looks down for a moment before collecting himself, straightening up. “Sure. Get on with the potatoes, I’ll do the fish.”

“Great,” Isak says. He puts on an extremely non-romantic playlist he made for an old girlfriend before getting started with the peeling. “How’s the filming going?”

Even starts talking and Isak lets himself listen, focusing more on the melody of Even’s voice than the words themselves, despite making sure to take them all in. Once everything’s underway, Isak gets into a rant about an article he found on his latest shift, talking about the anti-vaccination movement. Even asks good questions, keeping the conversation moving far beyond the point where everyone else Isak’s mentioned this to has lost interest.

All in all, it’s the nicest evening Isak’s had in a long time.

 

*

 

Isak’s brought up in the city, used to having buses and trams around ready to take him wherever. He’s also got a bike, currently stashed away for the winter, which means he doesn’t really do that much walking – except for when he absolutely has to, when he can’t calm his mind down until he gives in to it. It’s a couple of times here and there when the need becomes overwhelming, and he leaves the flat to walk aimlessly for hours on end.

He knows better than to reject the notion, so he simply gets dressed in his most comfortable clothes and takes off.

An hour passes, then two.

He’s cold, but it’s manageable. He’s still not quite settled, so he keeps walking. There’s this feeling of impending doom niggling at the back of his mind, keeping his thoughts from settling. His growing friendship with Even has started to ring more and more warning bells, crossing all the perimeters he’s previously set.

They’ve hung out alone. They’ve texted a lot. They’ve built a foundation on something other than interaction around mutual friends. 

Isak wasn’t supposed to let this happen, and he doesn’t know how to get out of it. He keeps walking.

 

He ends up passing by the street where Sonja grew up. He’s only been to her parents’ house a few times, but he still remembers the layout of the rooms, the comfortable atmosphere. The warmth he felt when Sonja let him sleep in her room at times when his own felt barren, despite having moved in with Eskild and Linn.

It never really mattered that she was Eskild’s friend first, she never made him feel like an outsider, took him in without missing a beat. It’s been years now, and he wouldn’t know how to grow up without having her as support. It’s been years now, and she’s always been there, always been present, and always been in love with Even. It’s a law of nature, and one Isak will never attempt to break.

No matter what the cost might be.

 

*

 

Despite the fact that Isak’s been working as a temp at the public libraries for two summers already, he still needs to go through the process of being interviewed for the coming season. Luckily, he already knows the recruiter, and sits down feeling quite confident.

“Good to see you again,” Oskar says. With his glasses and sensible cardigan, he looks very much the epitome of a library administrator. Isak’s liked him from their first meeting, and has had no reason to review his instinctual judgement of Oskar since then, still seeing him as competent but somewhat soft.

“You too,” Isak says. “How are you?”

“Oh, fine. It’s a little much with all the vacation schedules, but we’ll get there,” Oskar says, smiling. “So, why don’t you tell me about your reasons for wanting this job.”

Isak launches into the same spiel he’s used since his first year, updated with his extended experience from working another two terms at the uni library. “And I’ve really enjoyed being here, I like the people and the patrons, so.”

Oskar nods. “Sounds good. How many hours were you hoping for? You know we can’t give you full time the whole summer.”

“I’m fine with part-time, as many shifts as you can give me,” Isak says.

“Any particular library you’d like to be at?” Oskar asks, taking notes. “You get to be a little picky now, since you’ve already done two years,” he adds.

“Oh. I don’t know, I’m fine with whatever. I still don’t have a car, so I’d rather not have to work at the ones I can’t bus to.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Oskar says. “Would you mind writing down a list and emailing it to me?”

“Sure,” Isak says. He crosses his legs, taking the lull in the conversation as Oskar starts filling out a form as an opportunity to look around. The office looks the same as always, but updated with a few new movie posters, along with one of a ladybug.

Oskar catches his confused look. “My daughter’s. She’s really into insects, so she got me that for my birthday.”

“Right. That explains why it doesn’t really fit with the rest.”

“I know, but what are you gonna do?” Oskar shrugs. “I’m fine with lady bugs as long as she’s happy.”

Isak nods, squinting as he tries to see the bottom corner clearer. “Did she sign it?”

“Yeah,” Oskar says, huffing out a laugh. “I tried to explain that it’s the person who made it that’s supposed to sign, but she said that she made the purchase, so she could still claim it as hers.”

“She gonna be a lawyer?” Isak asks, smiling.

“God, I hope not,” Oskar says. “So, any updates on your address or anything? Any name changes, bank details, or something that needs updating?”

Isak freezes long enough for Oskar to look up. “Isak?”

“I- kind of? I don’t know if it’s relevant, but I got married. It’s… whatever, but. Yeah.” He can practically feel the somewhat professional tone disappear from his voice, praying this won’t cost him the job.

“You got married? Congratulations,” Oskar says. “So, you’ve moved?”

“No.”

“Changed your name?”

“No.”

“Ah. Well, then there’s no changes needed. But let me know if anything needs updating in the future,” Oskar says.

“Sure.” Isak’s hands are too sweaty for a handshake, relieved when Oskar simply claps him on the back as he leads Isak out of the office.

“I’ll call you in the next few days, to give you the schedule,” Oskar says.

“Great, thanks,” Isak says. “Thank you for having me back.”

“Of course! You’ve got great references from all the branch managers, so you’re always welcome,” Oskar says.

Pride quickly spreads through Isak’s chest, making his steps lighter as he walks out into the rainy streets.

 

_guess who’s going to be at the lib this summer?_

Sonja replies swiftly as always. _!!!!!!! Congratulations, knew you would get it!!_

_tbh it was mostly just admin_

_STILL COUNTS! #proud_

Isak smiles, sends a green heart back.

 

*

 

The good feeling carries through the next couple of days, even managing to lead Isak to nailing the seminar, getting a few appreciative looks from his professor and taking initiative in a way he’s usually too unprepared to do.

Getting out of the classroom, he catches sight of a familiar face. “Even!”

Even twirls around, smiling as he sees Isak. “Hey! I was wondering if I’d run into you.”

“I was just in there,” Isak says, gesturing behind him. “Had a seminar.”

“Did it go okay?” Even reaches over to pluck three of the five books Isak’s carrying out of his grip, smoothly transitioning them to his own. He bats Isak’s hand away when he tries to take them back. “I’ve got them.”

Isak smiles in thanks. “It was good, yeah. What are you doing here, did you walk with Elias?”

“Mikael,” Even says. “He had a job interview in the main building, so.”

The main building is pretty far from where they’re currently standing. It’s a joint effort to ignore that fact, instead focusing on criss-crossing between students and faculty to get out of the building, both taking a relieved breath when they do.

“What are you doing now?” Even asks.

Isak holds up his books. “I have a date with engineering.”

“Remember that just because it gives you wisdom to further your career doesn’t mean you have to put out at the end of the night,” Even says seriously.

“I’ll try to keep that in mind,” Isak says, grinning.

“Do you need help studying? I’m great at quizzing people.”

“Really? It’s kinda boring,” Isak says.

“Can’t be that boring if you’ve chosen it,” Even says. “Come on, we’ll get cookies on the way.”

“Quizzing with cookies,” Isak says in his best announcer voice.

“Coming soon to nrk,” Even fills in. “Check out the trailer below.”

“What would the trailer even be?” Isak asks.

“This,” Even says. “Just a shot of us walking, with really upbeat music playing over it.”

“Cool,” Isak says. “Guess you’ve got your next TV-pitch.”

“Definitely,” Even says, gesturing to a side street. “Let’s go here, it’s nicer.”

Isak turns without objecting, following the smaller street into the relative calmness of the city away from the main streets.

“There’s a great coffee shop a couple of minutes away,” Even says. “If you don’t want to hang out at yours.”

Isak pictures the unmade bed, dishes overflowing the sink, coffee table overflowing with books and notes. “Coffee shop is good.”

Even smiles at him.

 

They sit down with tea and cinnamon buns, Isak’s book taking up the majority of their small table. “Which one do you want to start with?” Even asks.

He reads the titles. “None of them sound like bestsellers.”

“How dare you?” Isak asks absently, digging through his bag. “Got it.”

He produces his beat up notebook, turning to the right page. “I copied the study guide, it has some guidelines for the exam.”

“Great,” Even says, taking over. “You don’t get it uploaded to the course site?”

“We do, but I get distracted if I have my laptop on,” Isak says.

“I’ve seen you study with a laptop,” Even says. “You do it all the time, at Elias’ house.”

“Which means that Sana was there. Have you ever tried to sneak something by Sana?” Isak gives him a pointed look.

Even nods. “Fair point.” He takes a bite of his bun. “Alright, you ready?” 

Isak wants to punch him a little for still being attractive with a mouthful of food. Isak restrains himself enough to keep his non-violent agenda intact. “Let’s go.”

 

It’s amazing how much easier it is when he gets to explain the concepts and terminology for someone else compared to just sitting at home, reading through it. They work their way through the crucial points of the material, Isak getting up to refill their drinks half-way through.

Finally, Even closes the final book. “That’s it.”

Isak slumps down in his chair. “Jesus. I’m never gonna remember all of it.”

“Sure you are. You’re almost there,” Even says.

“Doubt it. You have anything you need help with?” Isak rolls his head a little, working out some cricks in his neck. He can feel eyes on him, looking up at Even just in time to see him avert his gaze.

“Yeah, actually. I do.” Even starts gathering their dishes up, piling them onto the tray. “I’ll explain on the way.”

“Okay,” Isak says, a little confused. He follows Even out, returning the goodbye they get from the lady behind the counter.

It’s colder than before when they get back outside, light starting to fade in the distance. The snow is still clinging on the sidewalks, even though the roads are mostly clear. It’ll be spring in a few months. Isak can’t wait.

“So, I have this thing, and I need some expert help,” Even says, swerving to let a guy and his dog pass them. “Thought you could assist me.”

“Wait, I’m the expert?” Isak asks. “At what?”

“Well. It’s. Basically, I wanted to.” Even flounders a little, his hand gesturing between them. “Okay, so.”

“What is it?” Isak wants to reach out and touch Even’s shoulder, see if he can calm him a little. He tries it out in his head, can practically feel the material of Even’s coat against his palm, the softness of his scarf caught on his shoulder. Like always, he contains it.

“I wanted to ask you out, and you’re the expert on… you. So I thought I could consult you on how to do it,” Even says, rushing the words out. “And, yeah.”

He laughs a little. “This went a lot better when I practiced it.”

“Practiced?” Isak is proud to maintain the ability to make sounds, let alone legible ones.

“Just a little. You know, in front of the mirror.” Even drags a hand through his hair.

“Like in the movies?” Isak feels dumbstruck, shut out of his own brain.

Even’s smile is almost painful to see, it’s so bright. “Just like in the movies.”

Isak stops abruptly, clutching his books to his chest. “I-“

Even steps in front of him. “Can I please take you on a date?”

Panic is rapidly creeping up Isak’s throat, paralyzing everything in its path. He can do nothing but stare at Even, try to catalogue the reality of the situation through his smile, the way his hair is curling slightly across his forehead. His breath turning into clouds just centimetres away.

“I promise we’ll have fun. We can, I don’t know, cook? Or go to the movies, or we could get a pizza? Whatever you’d like.” Even looks unsure, but still takes a minute step closer.

He’s the bravest person Isak’s ever met.

“No.” It’s quiet, but still way too loud. Isak looks down. “No.” It’s stronger the second time around.

“Oh,” Even breathes out. “Okay.”

People pass them by, occasionally brushing Isak’s backpack, his shoulder. He can’t look up. He can’t.

“I’ve got some of your books in my bag,” Even says, a little detached.

Isak nods.

“We’re just another few minutes away from yours,” Even says. “I’ll go with you.”

He takes off without waiting for Isak. Isak follows anyway, keeping Even’s back in his eye line until they’re standing in front of Isak’s house. Isak has too many things to say, so he doesn’t say any of them, just unlocks the door and holds it open for Even.

Their footsteps echo in the deserted stairwell, the only sound left in the world.

Isak unlocks his door, turning to Even only to be met with a handful of books. “Thanks.”

Even nods. “No problem.” He clears his throat. “Sorry for ambushing you with…”

“No, don’t- it’s not your fault.” Isak looks down at his shoes. They’re almost falling apart, the sole gapping a little at the front.

“I thought it was worth a shot,” Even says. “Should at least try to date my husband, right?”

Isak slowly fills with ice. “That’s why?” The question is out before he can stop himself, eyes coming up to meet Even’s.

“No!” Even takes a step closer, before seemingly remembering himself and going back again. “That was just a joke, I didn’t mean it like that. I asked you because I like you, not out of guilt or… obligation or something.”

“You like me?” Half of him lights up at the idea, the other one falls into sorrow for Sonja.

“Quite a lot.” Even seemingly gains confidence, nudging the door open a little wider. “I liked you before we went on the trip, but now. It’s a lot more. I’m kind of completely in love. With you.”

Isak takes a step back, leaving the doorway open for Even to step into. He can’t speak, unknowing of whether or not his words will betray him. In his most selfish of selves, he wants to take everything for himself, wants to keep everyone around him on his own terms.

He’s glad he’s not allowing that part of himself jurisdiction of his choices, at least not anymore. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” Even isn’t actually touching him, his hand only hovering above Isak’s, but Isak still feels it. “You don’t want to?”

“I can’t.” Isak closes his eyes, steals a few breaths before he has to look up at Even and lose them all over again.

“Why?” Even’s voice is so, so soft.

The door is still open behind him, letting the outside world into this most intimate of moments. Isak’s never felt so naked. He wishes for it to stop, wishes to be alone and to be close.

He can’t lie to Even in his current state. “Sonja is one of my closest friends,” he says.

“Yeah. What does that have to do with this?”

It’s not until he sees Even’s genuine confusion that Isak feels certain of that which he has guessed for a long time.

Even doesn’t know.

There was a while after the break up when Isak thought Even was deliberately keeping Sonja way too close to him. It seemed selfish at the time. With Even not knowing about Sonja’s feelings, things look a little differently.

Isak knows that Even was diagnosed while he was with Sonja, has seen them first-hand work out the new dimension to their relationship. He saw Sonja take on the responsibility of girlfriend extraordinaire the first times Even went through a depressive episode, he went over to her flat to cook for her when she was too tired to take care of herself.

That part has been kept out of the friendship Sonja and Even created post break up. Isak knows Sonja misses it, at least on a basal sort of level. She’s always aimed to take care of people. The first time Even was down after they’d split, Sonja got drunk on tequila in Isak’s room, asking him to hide her phone so she wouldn’t call Even’s parents, or check in with Elias, or book a taxi to go over to Even’s house.

But Even doesn’t know that. He has no idea of the things Sonja’s gone through since they split, because she never let him see the continuing emotions underlying it. Isak saw it. Isak still sees it.

“I’m not going to date you,” Isak says, forcing his voice to remain level. “It’s not fair to her.”

Even looks at him for a full minute, his mind quite obviously racing. Even’s smart, he’s always been smart. It doesn’t take him long. “Fuck.” 

Isak clears his throat. “Yeah.”

“But I don’t, anymore,” Even says. “So why can’t we-“

“Because we can’t,” Isak says, trying for tough. It comes out as a plea.

“You want me to just forget about it?” Even asks. “Just like that.”

Isak shrugs, shifting a little uncomfortably back and forth.

”Tell me,” Even says.

”Tell you what?”

They’re still both in their outerwear, sweat starting to trickle down Isak’s back. The conversation seems absurd, plucked out of context and dumped on them without proper warning.

”Tell me that I can’t be in love with you anymore,” Even says, eyes not leaving Isak’s. “I’ll stop if you tell me to.”

It’s a choice between loyalty and happiness. Isak’s chosen the wrong one once. He’s not living with the guilt again.

“We’re friends now,” Isak says quietly. “I want to be friends.” Steels himself. “You can’t be in love with me anymore.”

Even bites his lip. Looks away. “Okay.”

There’s a little bit of loose skin around Isak’s thumbnail. He pulls on it until it gives way, burns a little as it exposes his skin. He rubs on it, prolonging the pain.

“I’m gonna go.” Even stands still for another second, waiting.

Isak can’t give him anything. 

Even exhales shakily before turning away, the door closing behind him. The books are heavy in Isak’s arms, tempting him to sink down to the floor, staring straight into nothing while his heart caves in on itself.

 

*

 

His mum sounds good on the phone, chatting away about her new neighbour and the sales in the grocery shop. He drags the conversation out for longer than he has time for, desperate to feel connected to her.

He’s finally rid himself of lingering regret about the way he chose himself above her, fought through it with the help of Sonja and Jonas and Magnus. He’s not going through another bout of this.

He can ignore his feelings for Even. It’s fine. They’re made out to mean more than they really do, anyway.

Let it be. Let it die. Move on.

He just has to wait for dullness. He can live with it, has done so for years already. A life clouded is a life without pain, because nothing penetrates the grey voids of empty days. He just needs to let old habits seep back in, breath by breath.

He sits down on the bed. Hands on each side, palms pressing down on the mattress. Feet aligned with the floor.

One breath.

Two breaths.

Three breaths.

Four.

He keeps count and keeps his mind quiet, empty. Welcomes the familiar feeling of being bored along with a growing need for sleep.

 

*

 

Isak makes up lies to stay away, stay at home, stay alone for the next few days. He can’t have someone look at him and understand, can’t have anyone knowing about this. If someone finds out, that’ll mean that there’s a possibility Sonja will find out and that can’t happen. Isak can’t lose her in the same month as losing Even, he simply can’t do it.

 

*

 

Isak goes to work with most of his feelings still shut off, talks to Adam a little but blames his course load for having to keep his distance for most of the night, keeping his notes as a shield against social interaction.

He’s eight minutes into his break when he remembers to check his phone.

_Meeting to fill out forms set for the 24 th, 10.00. I’ll pick you up at nine._

Isak has to close his eyes for just a second, needs to centre himself for the smallest fraction of time. _i’ll meet you there_

_I’ll pick you up at nine. That way we won’t have to stand around and wait for each other, it’ll be quicker._

_okay._ Isak bites his lip. _i’ll pay for gas_

He stares at the screen for the remaining twelve minutes of his break. There are no updates.

 

*

 

A call comes in early enough in the morning to put Isak into automatic panic mode. There’s been a few early phone calls that he’s never wanted, some involving his mum and others involving stupid things his friends have done while drunk or high.

Seeing his dad’s contact info doesn’t help matters. Isak hits the button. “Hello?”

“Hi, Isak.” He sounds calm, collected. Not a crisis then.

Isak breathes out. “Hey. What’s up?”

“I’m good. How are you, everything okay with the flat?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Isak slings an arm around his stomach, a reaction without thought. “Uni’s good too, so.”

“That’s great. I wanted to ask you something,” his dad says. “And I’d like your honest opinion.”

“Okay?”

“I’m thinking about selling the house.” His dad sounds uncharacteristically nervous. “What do you think about that?”

“I don’t know.” He’s not even trying to be flippant. “When would you sell it?”

“Soon. I’ve found a flat closer to work, but if you want me to stay in the house, I will.”

“Oh.” There are too many reactions going on, Isak’s unsure which to focus on. “Can I think about it?”

“Yes, of course. Let me know whenever,” his dad says. “No rush.”

Isak nods. “Alright.”

“Well, okay. I was thinking we could have lunch someday, maybe next week? Unless you have exams or something.”

“I think that’d work, I’ll have to check,” Isak says.

“Good, good. Take care of yourself,” his dad says, his usual sign-off.

“You too.”

Isak sits stock-still on the bed. He’s not even been to the house in months, but the idea of anyone except a family member living there is too weird to fathom. His dad has had the place for the last few years, ever since his mum moved to a flat in a more central neighbourhood. His old room is still there, being kept somewhat tidy by his dad. Losing that would mean cutting the last shred of security connected to his parents.

It’s his call. Falling back against the pillows, Isak sighs. This time, it may have been better for his dad to simply push his way through, following the pattern of how things usually go.

 

Thirty minutes later, he gets up, gets ready and gets on the bus. Tries desperately to empty his thoughts of divorces, and dates, and houses, and tethers to a life he might have had. He grips his backpack a little tighter, folds into his seat. Wants to disappear.

 

His lecture is fine, the sad baguette he eats for lunch is bearable, and the study session with Sana goes better than any he’s had alone for weeks. He tries to find gratitude, sulking a little when there is none.

“I talked to my mentor about switching schools,” Sana says.

“Yeah? What’d she say?” Isak takes a sip of water, does his best to focus on nothing but her.

“That is was a good opportunity, but she also said the same thing you did, about getting a job there later and not now,” she says. “I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it again.”

“Were you thinking next term, or later?” Isak doesn’t want to show it, but he’s overcome with desperation of keeping her close, counting on her to pull him away from himself, no matter how sporadic their hangouts may be. “You could wait, right? If you wanted to.”

“Yeah, I guess, but it’s probably best just to get on it. If I’m going, I might as well be there for as long as I can,” Sana says. She notices his white knuckles, clutching his book. “Are you okay?”

“Fine. Stressed.”

She hesitates. “Is it tomorrow you have your meeting?”

Isak nods.

They study in silence.

 

*

 

Even comes to pick him up at nine o’clock on the dot, parking neatly across the street. He waits in the car, Isak taking a few moments to look down at him from the hiding place behind the curtain. Isak can feel the longing creeping in, his hands itching to touch any part of Even, to allow himself to get lost in him.

Isak steps away from the window, makes an effort to relax. Can’t help but slam the door when he leaves.

 

The ride is quiet, words unspoken hanging like dust in the air, making it hard to breathe. Even’s got the radio on, pop music playing as if from another dimension. There is no room for thoughtless joy in the car, Isak’s chest to heavy to allow the notes in.

There’s an open parking space in a perfect spot. Isak tries to see it as a sign, a reassurance. 

He checks his phone after getting out of the car, finding a few from Jonas and Mahdi. Nothing from Sonja.

 

It feels too simple. Forty minutes in a room, going over all the details and filling in the correct boxes, a brief check to see if the papers are all in order. Neat signatures placed side by side.

Closing of a folder, curt nods and fading footsteps.

 

The ride home doesn’t even have the radio to quell the silence. Isak can feel it eat away at him, second by second.

He has yet to say something, anything, to Even, and they’re already back in front of Isak’s building. In a pointed gesture, Even keeps the car running, his hands not leaving the wheel.

“Thanks for driving me,” Isak says.

Even nods.

“I-“ He can feel his hands start to sweat. “Are you hungry?”

Even shakes his head.

“Okay.” Isak steals a few seconds while fumbling with the seatbelt, pretending to search for the door handle. The parting is inevitable though, and Even isn’t looking at him. 

There’s a sharp pain in Isak’s stomach as he gets out of the car, made worse when closing the door behind him.

 

He walks up the stairs to his empty flat, sits down on the hallway floor with his back against the door and sits still until the shadows have completely taken over the room. When he can’t see his hand in front of him anymore, he gets up, walks to the kitchen and heats up a frozen pizza.

Eats slowly enough that the food has gotten cold before he finishes, meticulously cutting up the slices. He washes the dishes, ignoring the somewhat shaky grip he has on the plate, the glass, the fork. Brushes his teeth and goes to bed. 

There is no sleep, but there are also no dreams. Isak counts himself lucky.

 


	3. basement boxes and bullshit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stars are not enough.

 

Isak gets up early to clean the flat, taking care to reach into every space with the vacuum, opening all the windows to let the fresh air in. It’s been a few days now that he hasn’t left the flat, but that’s not really new. He used to lock himself up all the time, before there were people around who would drag him out.

He hasn’t looked at his phone, not even sure if the battery is still running. If it were anything important, someone would come over to get him and no one’s shown up yet.

In the middle of getting the floor rid of dirty clothes, he accidentally bumps into the bookcase, causing one of the shelves to collapse. This is what he gets for collecting furniture from sketchy second hand shops.

Making sure to sigh a couple of times and place his hands on his hips while inspecting the damage, he starts to pick up the books that have fallen, stacking them on the coffee table.

One title in particular catches his eye. It’s an old astrology book, given as a gag gift from Even at a birthday party ages ago. Isak’s never actually opened it, knowing the point was never to read it. They’ve had a lot of discussions about astrology versus astronomy, Even always setting up camp in the astrology corner just to rile Isak up.

He sits down on the floor, pulls the book closer. The spine is cracked and the ridiculous picture on the cover has lost most of its intense colour, a stark red and splashes of purple all that’s remaining. He opens it, flicks through the pages.

Pauses.

Goes back.

There are printed pictures inside, depictions of cards and symbols and big charts about stars and planet placements. Even’s added to all of them.

There is some kind of modification to every page in the book, long lashes on a knight’s horse, sunglasses on the moon, little hearts around a brightly shining star. Doodles on every available surface, stick figures riding on the comets and having a drink next to Jupiter.

The book is 394 pages long and has 581 signs of Even. Isak counts them, again and again and again. On the very last page, there are a few words, carefully surrounded by stars and moons.

_For Isak. I hope you like it._  

Once he’s realizing he’s crying, it’s too late to do anything about it, so he just keeps looking through the book, tracing the lines of Even’s drawings with a careful fingertip. It’s getting harder and harder to feel like the right thing has been done when it routinely breaks his heart.

 

*

 

The café is busy when Isak gets there, having to wade through mountains of down jackets carelessly placed on the floor, the bulk of them taking up way too much space. Sonja is sitting at their usual table, somewhat hidden behind a gigantic plant.

“Hi,” Isak says as he reaches her, wrestling off his scarf and beanie, immediately feeling a little calmer when getting rid of them.

“Hi!” She says, smiling up at him. “How are you?”

“Good,” Isak says, sitting down. It’s not a lie except for all the ways it is. “You?”

“I’m good,” she says. “I got you coffee. Didn’t have the energy to get back in line for pastries, so…”

“So that’s my job?” Isak asks, smiling a little as he pulls the offered cup closer.

She shrugs, smirking a little. “I mean, I did brave the crowd once.”

“True.” He takes a sip, tries not to think about anything other than this moment. “Is work going okay?”

“I guess,” she says. “It’s not the most interesting thing around, but it’s alright. You’ve got exams soon, haven’t you? You said something about it ages ago.”

He nods. “Yeah, they’re coming up.”

She takes a sip of her cappuccino. Plays a little with a napkin.

Isak doesn’t know how to talk about the thing they desperately need to address but, as always, Sonja paves the way.

“So, you started up the divorce?” She’s very careful not to look at him.

“Yeah. It’s not a real one. It’s different when it’s not been, you know.” His hand gesture is supposed to be helping, but it mostly makes her blush. Isak lowers it, shoves the hand under his thigh.

“Right.” She clears her throat. “I talked to Even.”

“Okay,” Isak nods, looking nowhere but down.

“He seemed a little weird, kinda short.”

Isak keeps nodding. Takes another sip.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Sonja asks, leaning over to put her hand over his.

It calms him, like it always does, enough for him to look up and attempt a smile. “I’m fine. I’m just a little tired.”

She winces. “Shit, insomnia coming back?”

“Little bit, yeah. It’s just stress though, it’ll be alright in a few days.” It won’t. If the beginning of sleep is as elusive as the end of heartbreak, it’s going to take a lot longer than days.

Isak hopes to sleep in the New Year, sometime when the leaves start to fall. That should be long enough for his spine to stop contracting in on itself every time he lies down.

“Are you sure? Do you want to stay over?” she asks.

It helps, sharing a bed with someone, has gotten him through a few other bouts of insomnia. Usually it's Sonja or Eskild who offers up their beds and it's worked miracles in the past, but the thought of being surrounded by both Sonja and his thoughts is too much right now.

“No, I’m fine.”

She nods. Tilts her head a little before reaching out to stroke her hand down his cheek. “You need to get a little better at shaving, you know. You’re a bit patchy.”

“I know,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Magnus won’t stop nagging me about it.”

She laughs. “I like him. We should have a dinner thing again soon, that was fun.”

Isak smiles, only slightly strained. “I should get the pastries. Cinnamon bun?”

“Yes, please.”

 

*

 

Isak feels a little guilty about doing it over the phone, but he’s honestly been unable to meet up with his dad for days now, and Isak wants him to be able to hear Isak’s decision as soon as possible. 

He hates the dial tone, always waiting for something bad at the other end. Three signals in. Four.

“Isak? Hi!”

“Hey,” Isak says. “Is this a bad time?”

“No, no,” his dad says. “How are you?"

“Good. I’m good. You?” Isak twirls his hoodie string round his finger, reeling it in and letting it escape.

“I’m good.”

“So, I’ve decided that I’m fine with you selling the house,” Isak says, full on cutting the chord. “I haven’t been there for months and, yeah. It’s cool.”

“Are you sure? I won’t do it unless you’re absolutely sure,” his dad says, recognisable Serious Voice in full mode.

“I am. Is it too late for you to get the flat you wanted?” Isak doesn’t want to pile on to his list of reasons for bad karma.

“I’m not sure, I’ll have to check. But it’s going to take a while to get the sell started and everything anyway, so it’s no rush,” his dad says. “Are you… do you want to come pick up your things? I can send them to you if you’d like.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll come over and get them.”

“Good, alright. You still have your key?”

“I do.” As much as Isak has wanted to throw it away in the past, it’ll be a nice gesture to hand it over without anger.

“Just come by whenever,” his dad says. “There are some packing boxes in the basement, if you need them.”

“Cool.” Isak twirls the string again. “Well, I’ve gotta go.”

“Of course, yeah. I’ll talk to you later. Take care of yourself.”

“You too.”

It’s the right decision.

 

*

 

The next few weeks have no characteristics to them, they all blend together to an un-important nothingness. He doesn’t know how to reach out to Even, so he avoids it. He doesn’t know how to feel about having been married and now divorced, so he avoids it. He doesn’t know how to get over someone he blocked himself from having, so he avoids it.

His flat has become a pitfall of emotions. He stays out as much as possible, determinedly changing the sheets, washes all his clothes, sorts out his kitchen cupboards. If he can’t see it or smell it or feel it, it never happened.

Even never happened.

 

After exactly twenty-two days, Isak feels pretty satisfied in knowing he can live like this, can make it through his life without any contact with the one person he wants the most, can survive keeping his feelings for Even in the outskirts of his mind. 

He’s content. He should have known better.

 

*

 

There’s an insistent knocking on the front door, aggressive enough for Isak to double check the peephole before opening.

“Hi,” he says.

Sonja just stares at him, her hair in disarray and feet in flimsy sandals.

“Um… do you want to come in?” He scratches his neck a little, the sharp edges of his nails enough to keep him grounded. It’s eerie, her being this still when he can so clearly see all the words waiting to burst out.

She’s usually more straightforward than this. She does step inside though, kicks off her shoes and lets her jacket fall onto the floor.

Isak picks it up and hangs it on a hook before following her into the kitchen.

 

She’s halfway through a beer, her head tilted back as she stands in front of the open fridge. She puts it down before turning around to him. 

“So. I had an interesting conversation today,” she says.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Apparently, I’m the reason you’ve been feeling miserable lately. All this stuff about the marriage and the divorce, totally my fault.”

“Sonja…”

“What?” She leans back against the kitchen counter. “Am I wrong?”

He looks down on his feet, trying not to say too much.

“Do you remember when I fucked that guy on New Year’s Eve?”

His head snaps up without a second thought. “What?”

“The guy with the highlighters, remember him?” She looks almost relaxed as she stands, but her eyes are piercing.

“Um, yeah. Sure.”

“Okay. And do you remember when I was with David for six months? And when I had a thing with the guy from the restaurant?”

Isak nods.

“Did you think I was unhappy with them?” Sonja asks. “Because apparently, you think I’ve been pining for Even for almost two years, so clearly you must have thought those relationships weren't worth shit.”

Isak’s mouth goes dry. “I don’t-“

“I’ve known you for a long time, Isak. I know you don’t do relationships and I know that you are scared shitless every time you even look at Even because you want one with him, but this is-”

“I don’t,” he hurries to say. The words burn as the pass his throat.

She looks him straight into the eye. “Lie to me again and I’m done.”

“I’m not,” he says, taking a few desperate steps closer. “I don’t know who you’ve talked to, but-“

“I already told you, I talked to Even.” She smiles without a hint of amusement. “That was a fun conversations. A whole lot about how I influence you too much, and that I should back off. Oh, and he was kind enough to tell me that he no longer has feelings _like that_ for me and that I should grow up and move on. That I should stop controlling his life.”

Isak can feel his hands start to shake. There are a handful of foundations for the basis of his existence, and the understanding of Sonja’s and Even’s relationship is one of them. He’s built a life on that one.

“I thought you were in love with him,” Isak says, his voice smaller than his belief.

“Did you?” Sonja looks at him, her eyes boring in. “Or was it just really convenient for you if I was?”

“That’s not fair,” he tries, can feel the panic to stay hidden bubble up inside.

A laugh.

“Stop using me,” she says. “I’m done with being your guilty conscience.”

She walks out, the front door shutting sharply behind her.

 

His phone vibrates a few moments later. 

_If you didn’t want to be with me you should have just said so. Pretty shitty to use Sonja as an excuse._

Isak doesn’t get up from the couch for the rest of the night, falling into a shallow slumber just before the sun rises.

 

*

 

He can’t avoid Jonas’ increasing invitations any longer, so Isak eventually takes him up on an offer to hang out at one of the skate parks they used to go to while at Nissen. Jonas looks just as he’s done for the last five years, bringing a comfort Isak hadn’t noticed he was missing.

He leans in for a hug, an upgrade compared to the high-five they used to greet each other with, and takes a seat on the edge next to Jonas.

“You’re late,” Jonas says, smiling at him.

“I’m always late.” Isak digs out a packet of gum from his bag, offers it to Jonas.

“True. Is it watermelon?” Jonas asks, taking one.

“Of course.” It used to be a point of pride, being the guy who always had gum, especially when they were young enough that gum wasn’t permitted on school grounds. Having parents with issues of guilt paid off sometimes, since Isak was never denied the one thing he routinely asked for.

For a long time, he thought the gum, or the equivalent of it, was the sole basis for most of his friendships. With the exception of Jonas, that turned out to be mostly true.

He still likes the watermelon taste though, can’t bring himself to buy any other flavour. When sharing it with Jonas, it’s a ritual more than anything. Isak likes routine, likes having a fixed place.

He’s cool with being the guy with the gum as long as Jonas is the guy he shares it with.

“You’re being weirdly quiet,” Jonas says. He’s swinging his legs back and forth.

“Tired.” Isak sighs. “And it’s cold as fuck.”

“Wimp.” Jonas bumps their shoulders together.

“Wow, thanks.”

“You’re fine,” Jonas says, waving it away. “Why are you tired, you not sleeping?”

“I am, but not enough. I have to learn all this shit, and I don’t have time,” Isak says. He pulls his legs up, folding them into a pretzel, not liking the feeling of free-fall beneath them.

“You don’t like your programme, do you?”

The question takes him by surprise. “Yes, I do.”

“Really? You’re always complaining about it,” Jonas says, looking over at him.

“Everyone does,” Isak says. “It’s uni. It’s supposed to be a bit shit.”

“Okay,” Jonas says.

Isak crosses his arms. “What’s up with you, anything new at work?”

“Not really,” Jonas says, allowing the transition. “Just the usual.”

Out of all his friends, Isak always thought Jonas would be the first to jump on the chance of a higher education. Turns out Jonas was one of the few who got a job instead, working the reception at an animal shelter not too far from his parents’ house.

Isak suspects that it’s a thorn in Jonas’ side to still live at home, but he’s never actually asked. He doesn’t want Jonas to start thinking about the reasons behind Isak not asking Jonas to share a flat, doesn’t want him to figure out that despite Jonas’ unwavering support, it’s one thing to talk about being gay and a whole other thing to have the courage to pick up a guy somewhere and bring them home when there’s a reasonable chance someone Isak knows might hear them having sex. Isak’s ashamed of it, and he’s ashamed to be ashamed.

It’s a lovely spiral of on-going anxiety.

“Except for this one guy who came in with a bird,” Jonas says.

“Like a parrot?” Isak asks, blowing a bubble with his gum. Jonas automatically leans over to burst it.

“No, like a pigeon.” Jonas nods when Isak shoots him a look. “I swear. He came in with a cage and was like ‘I’ve caught this bird and would like to have it relocated’.”

“What the fuck?” Isak laughs.

“I know! So my boss was like, how did you get the bird, and the guy was like, well it’s always sitting on my balcony and I’m sick of it,” Jonas says. “He actually thought we could make the bird move somewhere else.”

“So what did you do?” Isak asks.

“We took it in, told the guy we’d do our best. And then five minutes after he left, we let it fly away,” Jonas says, shrugging. “Hopefully, it won’t go back again.”

“Probably will, though, right?”

Jonas nods. “Yup.”

Isak laughs. “That’s amazing.” He looks around. “Do you remember when I bought the longboard?”

“And fell over like twenty times in five minutes? Yeah. You suck at skating.” Jonas takes the shove graciously. “Don’t deny it.”

“That just means I was a great friend, since I still tagged along to this place,” Isak says.

“True.” Jonas lies back, keeping his legs over the edge. “It is kinda cold.”

“Told you.” Isak lies down next to him, knees bent. “We started up the divorce papers.”

“That was quick.”

“Even’s uncle is a lawyer,” Isak says.

“Ah.” Jonas blows a bubble. Isak bursts it. “How’s it feel?”

“A little weird,” Isak says. “It's not like it's actually, you know, anything real to split from, but...”

Jonas nods.

“How’s Eva?”

“She’s good. A bit miffed she wasn’t allowed to come, but other than that,” Jonas says.

“You could’ve invited her, I wouldn’t mind,” Isak says.

“I would, I think,” Jonas says. “We need to do stuff apart too, and we haven’t hung out alone in ages.”

“Sorry about that.” Isak sighs. “It’s just been a lot.”

Jonas hums. “But you’re okay.”

Isak has spent the last few years trying to get out of the habit of lying to Jonas, so he forcibly swallows his instinctual brush off and shrugs instead. It’s the closest thing to a non-truth he’ll allow himself to give.

Jonas seems to interpret it correctly, because he scoots a little closer, shares his body heat with Isak. It won’t magically make things better, but it does make Isak warmer. It’s a rare accomplishment these days, so he cherishes it as best he can.

He’ll do the big reveal of feelings connected to Even later, when everything isn’t so sore. For now, this is more than enough.

 

*

 

It’s a nondescript Tuesday when Isak sees Even near uni. Isak crosses the street without a beat of hesitation, his feet surer than his mind as he approaches.

“Even.”

Even doesn’t stop walking. Isak joins him.

“Hi,” Isak says. “I- How are you?”

“Fine,” Even says. It’s the most uninviting his voice has ever sounded, but it’s not mean, not disinterested, not cold. It’s not much of anything.

“Good,” Isak says. “Can we talk?”

“About what?”

“Everything.”

Even stops. “Why?”

“Because we should,” Isak says. He’s got fear growing inside his entire body, but if he doesn’t speak up now, he may never get another chance.

“That’s not a good enough reason,” Even says. He makes a move to keep walking, but Isak catches Even’s wrist before he can.

Isak’s forgotten his gloves at home, cold hands reacting to Even’s warm skin. It’s the first time he’s initiated a touch.

“I meant that we need to,” Isak says.

“And once again, I have to ask why?” Even’s not looking at him, politely keeping his gaze somewhere just northeast of Isak’s shoulder.

Isak scrambles for a plausible reason. “Because- it’s awkward with our friends, and I don’t want them to be caught in the middle.”

“They’re not.”

“They are.”

“Only because you put them there,” Even says, the first flare of annoyance.

“That’s not fair!” Isak says, the words flying out before he can review them.

“Right, and being fair is your speciality,” Even says. “I can’t help it if you’re feeling guilty around your friends, that’s on you. I’m fine with things the way they are.”

“Really?” Isak asks, defence mechanisms kicking in, shooting himself in the foot before he can retract the gun. “Cause I thought you were hoping for something else.”

For the first time, Even’s eyes meet his. Isak wishes they hadn’t. “Don’t.“

“I’m sorry,” Isak hastens out.

“Don’t fucking use that against me.” Even takes a deep breath. “Wow.”

“I’m sorry. I’m, I didn’t mean that. I just don’t want this to be so difficult,” Isak says. “I want to stay friends with you-“

“We’re not friends,” Even says.

“I’d like to be,” Isak keeps his eyes locked on his hands. Nails bitten down, cuticles torn apart, pink skin tender to the touch. “And I’m sorry.”

“That doesn’t change anything for me. Does it change anything for you?” Even asks.

Isak goes for honesty. “No.”

Even though he doesn’t mean for it to be, that’s the end of the conversation.

Isak looks at Even’s retreating back, wondering if that’s the only part of Even he’ll ever be allowed to see again.

 

*

 

Just to have something to do to tire him out, Isak goes by his dad’s house early the next day. Knowing the house is already empty with his dad needing at least an hour to get to work, Isak unlocks the door without knocking, walking in on hesitant legs.

It looks the same. Not that he’d expected any different, but it still throws him a little. His dad has been alone in the house long enough to potentially make it his own, but it seems like he hasn’t made that choice.

It’s still Isak's mum’s, in a very blatant kind of way. Her pictures on the wall, her throw pillows on the couch. Her over-filled bookcase up against the wall. It’s not that she didn’t bring stuff to her flat, she did, it’s just that so much of the things his dad got allotted were hers as well. Isak makes his way through the familiar rooms, quickly reaching the stairs down to the basement. This was the one place strictly off limits for him as a child, a no-go zone for all non-grown ups.

It’s ironic that Isak’s first steps into adulthood took place in a basement not unlike the one he’s standing in right now. The smell is the same, the sturdy shelves on the wall. The slight uncertainty of things lurking in the shadows.

He locates the boxes quite quickly, taking an armful upstairs. His room is still the same as when he was last here. He starts with taking down everything on the walls, most of it posters he’s not liked for years. He keeps the world map, rolling it up and securing it with a piece of tape.

All the books go directly in the boxes along with his sparse collection of DVD’s. There’s not a lot in his desk drawers, mostly useless things that surely had sentimental value once, but has long since passed the point of being relevant. He fills up a plastic bag, tying it off before moving onto the rest of the house.

He doesn’t really expect to find anything of his outside of his room, knowing that his dad has probably been collecting his stuff in there after finding them, but he takes a look anyway.

The only thing he’s tempted by are the photo albums, but he makes do with looking through them, tracing the silhouette of his family with a careful fingertip. He doesn’t miss it as fiercely as he used to, but it’s been increased lately in time with feeling like he’s losing his new one.

Isak makes sure to lock the door as he leaves, the photo albums safely stored back in the cupboard. His steps are heavier than the boxes he carries.

 

*

 

“Have you talked to Even?” Isak asks.

Eskild nods, but stays quiet as he potters around the kitchen, making coffee for them. Isak would never say it, but he doesn’t like Eskild’s new flat, too cold and impersonal to belong to one of the best people on the planet.

“Is he okay?”

“Kind of,” Eskild says. “Seemed a little down, but otherwise alright.”

“Oh. Good, that’s good.” Isak gives Eskild a quick smile as he gets a mug set in front of him. “Did he say anything about me?”

“No,” Eskild says, blowing on his coffee. He watches Isak over the rim of his cup. “What would he have said?”

“I don’t know. Something.” Isak adds sugar. “Did he mention the divorce?”

“He said you got it sorted.”

“Even’s uncle is a lawyer,” Isak says automatically.

“So I heard.” Eskild keeps looking at him.

Isak looks away.

“Is there a reason you wanted him to talk about you?” Eskild asks. “I thought you were fine.”

Isak shrugs. Busies himself with drinking, immediately scalding his throat. “We were.”

“What happened?” It’s Eskild’s most serious voice. Isak’s taught himself to listen to it.

“He… asked me out. Said that he was- That he liked me.” Isak swallows. “More than that, maybe.”

“That’s great!” Eskild says. “Why are you upset, was the date that bad?”

“We didn’t go on a date,” Isak says. “I said no.”

“Why?”

Isak shrugs.

Eskild stands up, huffing a little as he goes to grab some paper towels. “Okay.” He mops up the coffee spilled on the table next to Isak’s mug. Isak hadn’t even noticed it sloshing over, his fingers damp with the hot drink.

“You've already admitted that you like Even, despite always pretending not to.” Eskild goes to throw out the wet towels. “Why would you say no?”

Isak takes a deep breath. “I thought Sonja still had feelings for him.”

“She doesn’t,” Eskild says.

“I know that now,” Isak says, voice quiet. He picks up his coffee again, wrapping both hands around it. There’s not much warmth there, his fingers remaining cold, clumsy.

“Oooh. Okay, so Even’s the one you’re _in love_ with,” Eskild says. “That makes sense.”

“What?” Isak’s head shoot up. “No, I’m not, what the fuck?”

Eskild smiles at him. “You are. That explains a lot, actually. There had to be one.”

“What are you even talking about?” Isak asks, raising his voice despite his better judgement.

It’s Eskild’s turn to shrug. “You have people categorised,” Eskild says. “It’s what you do. Like, Sonja’s your sister, Jonas is your best friend, Sana is your study partner and Magnus is your support. Even, apparently, is the one you’re in love with.”

“I don’t get it, wha-?”

“You don’t like change, Isak,” Eskild says, voice softer now. “You never have. So you stick people into categories, and you keep them there.” He tilts his head, looking thoughtfully at Isak. “You didn’t like it when I moved, you didn’t like Jonas not going to uni, and you didn’t like when Sonja and Even broke up, even though you probably already liked him at that point. I think you’d rather keep Even as your could-have-been boyfriend than have something actually happen between you.”

Isak can feel his throat close up. He crosses his arms, digging his fingers into his ribs. “That’s not true. I don’t do that.”

“Yes, you do,” Eskild says, almost apologetic. “I don’t blame you, but I think you need to know and I think you need to think about what it does to people.”

Isak startles. “What does it do? Have I been mean to you, because I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t against you moving, I just didn’t think I’d see you that much and that sucked, and I know that I didn’t really help with the move but I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“No, you’re fine. I wasn’t talking about me.”

Isak looks at him, working through the knot in his mind. “Even’s not okay.”

“I don’t know him that well,” Eskild says. “But no, I don’t think so."

Isak caves in on himself, head in his hands. “Fuck.”

“Hey,” Eskild comes round the table, sitting down in front of Isak. “You’ll fix it. Okay? You’ll fix it with Sonja and you’ll fix it with Even.”

“I didn’t mean to do this,” Isak says, voice breaking.

“I know.” Eskild hugs him. “But now you know, and you can fix it.”

Isak doesn’t believe him, but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to try.

 

*

 

It takes a lot of preparation before he makes the call. He’s been jotting down conversation pieces for an hour, tried to anticipate all the ways he could get a chance to apologise.

In the end it doesn’t matter, because Sonja never picks up. Not the first time, not the time after that, and not the next day. She doesn’t reject it, doesn’t pick it up, just lets the call die out.

Isak starts calling at eight in the morning on the dot, every day. That way, it’s easier for her to decide whether or not to take it, eliminating the possibility of her accidentally picking up. He doesn’t want to trick her into talking to him, so he sets an alarm and he keeps ringing.

She keeps letting it die.

 

*

 

The latest in a long line of superhero films are on the agenda as Magnus, Mahdi and Jonas pick Isak up on the way to the cinema. They walk with loud voices, anticipating the narrative and the characters who might make a cameo, Isak less than the others. He ends up walking with Mahdi behind the others, getting a small bottle of Fanta shoved under his nose.

“Here you go,” Mahdi says.

Isak takes it. “Thanks.” He opens it, takes a drink. Passes it on to Mahdi. “Did you know that Fanta is a result of Coca Cola being too expensive to make?”

Mahdi shakes his head as he drinks, despite Isak being pretty sure he’s told him this before.

“It is. The ingredients for Fanta were easier to get hold of during wartime, and they needed something to sell, so.”

Mahdi nods. “Why didn’t they stop making it after the war was over?”

“People liked it,” Isak says, shrugging. “And they wanted to make money. I guess that’s one instance of capitalism working out great.”

Jonas throws him a dirty look, making both Isak and Mahdi snort.

“Sorry,” Isak says.

“Do I need to go over the disadvantages again?” Jonas asks.

“No!” Magnus says.

“No,” Isak says.

“No,” Mahdi says.

Jonas looks between them. “First of all, it’s important to remember that just because a system has been in place for a while and the mainstream narrative pushes us to think that it’s working, that doesn’t mean-“

Isak tunes him out. He’s heard it all before, starting back when this was just Jonas reciting other people. He focuses on Jonas’ voice instead, the surety of it, along with Mahdi’s relaxed steps next to him, Magnus’ excited ones in front.

It feels as close to normal as he’s been for ages. Still, there’s a slight dip in his mood his friends can’t be held responsible for.

 

Under the guise of going to the bathroom before taking their seats, Isak locks himself in a booth and leans back against the door, pulling his phone out. He writes. Rewrites. Deletes. Starts again.

_I’m sorry that I let my shit affect you. I’m sorry that I led you on. I’ve never not liked you and I meant what I said about wanting to be friends, but I get that you don’t want to and I’ll respect that._  

After a minute of overthinking, he adds _I’ve unfollowed you on insta and twitter and unfriended you on fb. Didn’t want that to be on you._

 

The movie is good, but not distracting enough not to feel his phone burn with inactivity in his pocket. He checks and rechecks it, turning it off and on again to make sure nothing about the connection is dodgy. After a few hours, there’s confirmation that Even’s seen the messages. For now, that has to be enough.

 

*

 

“Hey,” Isak says, taking his seat behind the desk.

“Hiya,” Adam replies, “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Isak says. “How you been?”

“Been alright. Stressing over exams, but what else is new. Oh, and guess what?” Adam is practically vibrating out of his chair.

Isak smiles at him. “What?”

“I’ve got a date.” Adam fumbles with his phone, turning it to show Isak a Facebook profile. “Louise.”

“She’s pretty,” Isak says. “How did you meet?”

“She helped Even out with the credits for his film, she’s like, really good at editing,” Adam says, so absorbed with the photo that he misses the hitch in Isak’s breath. For that, Isak’s thankful.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, so he set us up. She’d seen some of our youtube videos, you know the old ones? She said that I was the cute one,” Adam says, beaming.

“Don’t tell Mutta,” Isak says, pleased when Adam laughs.

“Definitely not.” Adam looks up at Isak, his face minutely falling. “Oh, shit. I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s fine,” Isak says. “Honestly.”

They both know he’s lying.

Adam scratches his neck. “I’m not really sure what happened, but is it cool if I stay neutral?”

“Yeah. Better for me, at least,” Isak says, a weak attempt of a joke.

“Even’s a pretty forgiving guy,” Adam says gently.

Isak keeps quiet.

“Sorry, I’m trying to find a reference book but it’s not in the stacks, do you know where it could be?” A slightly desperate looking girl is looking at Isak like he’s her last hope.

“What book is it?” he asks, already standing up.

“Administrative law,” she says, relaxing a little when Isak automatically makes a face. “I know.”

“Sorry,” Isak says. “Didn’t mean to judge you.”

“Eeey, nice one,” Adam says from behind him.

Isak rolls his eyes. ”Be quiet.” He turns to the girl. “I’ll help you look. There are a few spots people like to hide them.”

Adam gives a dainty wave as Isak passes him, laughing when Isak pokes him in the cheek. “Good luck.”

After finding the book and then spending an hour in the downstairs stacks, Isak goes on break feeling pretty good about himself.

 

*

 

Isak manages to oversleep the one day it’s crucial to be at uni a little bit early since he’s arranged to go over some notes for a group project with a course mate before the lecture starts.

He runs out of the flat, not taking the time to get more than a jacket and shoes, his neck cold as naked skin is assaulted by the wind. He makes the next bus just in time, panting a little as he throws himself down on a seat. Wrestling his phone out of his jeans pocket, he sees a message from Sonja.

_You okay?_

He’s a little confused until he realizes this is the first morning in two and a half weeks that he hasn’t rung her at eight o’clock on the dot.

_yeah, i just overslept_

No reply. He bites his lip. _i’ll call you tomorrow tho_

_Ok._

Isak breathes out. Okay.

He already knows she’s not going to pick up, but the fact that she’s not taken the calls for granted is truly something of a baby step in the right direction.

 

*

 

“Isak!” Mutta’s voice rings through the entire street. “Hey!”

“Hi,” Isak says, smiling as Mutta bounds over, taking a seat next to Isak. It’s really too cold to sit outside, but the bench outside Magnus’ new flat share is the best thing about the place, giving an amazing view of the neighbourhood.

“You’re not going inside?” Mutta asks.

“I am, but I was a little early,” Isak says. “Thought I’d chill for a while.”

“Not hard to chill in this weather,” Mutta says, blowing on his hands. “I haven’t seen you in ages.”

Isak frowns at him. “I saw you last week.”

“Yeah, but now it’s Thursday,” Mutta says. “That counts as ages.”

Isak shrugs. “Okay, then. Anything new with you?”

“I’m hosting a party on Saturday,” Mutta says. “And you are cordially invited.”

“This Saturday?” Isak asks.

Mutta nods.

“Huh. I must have missed it, I’ll attend right now,” Isak says, pulling out his phone, opening up Facebook.

“I didn’t make an event,” Mutta says. “It’s not going to be a big thing, so no reason to.”

“Oh. Right.” Something is still off. “But you always invite people weeks in advance.”

Mutta puts his hands in his coat pockets, burrowing in a little. Understanding dawns on Isak. “You don’t have to invite me.”

“I want to,” Mutta says.

“I don’t want it to be awkward,” Isak says. He pulls his scarf a little tighter round his neck. “I’ll go to the next one.”

“Isak.” Mutta looks at him. “It’s fine.”

“He knows?”

“Yeah.”

“And he’s okay with me coming?” Isak asks.

“Yeah.” Mutta bumps their shoulders together. “It’ll be fun.”

It’ll be an anxiety-ridden guilt-fest, but Isak’s not going to decline just because of that. “Okay. I’ll be there.”

“Nice!” Mutta fist bumps the air. “By the way, I can’t feel my bum anymore, like at all. Lost contact of both cheeks.”

“You want to go in?” Isak asks.

“Yes, please.” Mutta jumps up, pulling Isak up next to him. “Let’s go unfreeze.”

Isak follows him inside.

 

*

 

Isak’s heartbeat hasn’t slowed down from the moment he got the invite til he’s standing in front of Mutta’s parents’ house. He’d texted Jonas in a panic, begging him to come and pre-party at Isak’s flat beforehand so as to make sure that they would arrive together. Isak’s only had one beer, but feels fully drunk as they ascend the stairs up to the front door.

Jonas knocks a little melody. He’s allowed Eva to put a blond highlight in the back of his hair, making him look ridiculous. “Don’t judge me,” Jonas says.

“I wasn’t!”

“I can feel you doing it,” Jonas saying, throwing up the middle finger behind his back.

“Alright, sorry.” Isak waits three seconds. “Zebra.”

“Hey-“

“What, you-“

The door opens before either of them can finish. “Hi guys!”

“Hey, Mutta,” Jonas says, first through the door and first with a hug.

Isak follows closely by, his eyes already scanning the people behind Mutta as they hug. “Are we late?”

“No,” Mutta says. “We’re still waiting for some people.”

“Cool,” Isak says, distractedly kicking off his shoes.

“Even’s in the kitchen,” Mutta says, his voice quieter.

A lightning bolt of longing zips through Isak’s chest. “Alright.”

Mutta nods. “Alright.”

Jonas is waiting for him in the doorway, jerking his head towards the living room. “Let’s go.”

Isak goes.

 

It’s a weird sort of limbo. Isak sees Mutta stroll into the kitchen, meaning that Even most likely knows that Isak’s here. He’s sat down on the big plushy rug in front of the TV, turned to seemingly have a conversation with Elias and Sana who are sitting on the couch, but more than not focusing on developing x-ray vision to see through the walls and lay eyes on Even in the first time in forever. 

He curses his humanity when he fails, again and again. Tearing his eyes away, he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. “Adam said he had a date.”

Elias looks a little confused, pausing the story he was in the middle of. “Huh?”

“Adam,” Isak says, a little embarrassed now, “said that he had a date. When we worked together last.”

“Oh, yeah,” Elias says. “With Louise.”

Isak nods. “Did it go alright, have you heard anything?”

“He seemed pretty happy in the group chat, so…” Elias says, wriggling his eyebrows.

“You guys actually talk about girls like that?” Sana asks, scoffing. "What, do you rank them too?"

“No, no, it's nothing bad,” Elias says quickly. "It's not judge-y or anything."

Sana throws him a look. “Uh-huh.”

“It’s true! Ask anyone,” Elias says. “Look, here.” He scrolls through his phone, holding the screen up for Sana to see. “This was after I met up with Caroline on Thursday.” 

“That’s not enough evidence to actually conclude something,” Sana says after reading.

“Isak, back me up here.” Elias tilts the phone so that Isak can look. He glances at it, heart stuttering when he sees Even’s profile picture at the top of the conversation. _how was yesterday?_

_Ohhhhhhh yeah, details bro,_ Mikael filled in with.

_Spill spill spill spill,_ Mutta wrote.

Elias replied with _It was good, we just chilled._

_She’s too hot to chill,_ Mikael wrote.

He got two thumbs up from Mutta for that one, along with _solid pun, proud of you_ from Even.

After Mikael’s _thx Ev love you,_ Isak stops reading.

He looks up at Elias, tries to smile and says, “Seems good to me.”

Sana’s narrowed her eyes, keeping them trained on Isak. He avoids her gaze, tries to get his unfounded jealousy to fade before she notices. He’s two hundred percent certain that he fails, but he tries to push through anyway.

“Right? You should trust me more,” Elias says, clapping a hand on Sana’s shoulder before standing up. “I’m gonna go find Mikael.”

“Have fun,” Sana says, “Try not to get kicked out.”

“Pfft,” Elias says. “Mutta would never.” With a wave to the both of them, he disappears down the hall.

Isak moves up to the couch, if only to have something to do. “So, how you’ve been?”

Sana ignores the question. “We should hang out next week. Tuesday.”

“Um, yeah. Sure.” Isak tries to gain her goal, but he’s not as good at reading people as she is, so he comes away with nothing.

“Good.” She smiles at him. “Could you get me a drink? I’ve been running around all day, I’m too tired to get up.”

“Of course,” Isak says. “What do you want?”

“Sparkling water, the lemon one,” she says.

“Coming right up,” Isak says, standing up. It’s not until then he realizes what it means. A quick look at Sana shows that she knows what it means, too. “Actually, I think I need to go to the bathroom.”

“I think you need to go to the kitchen,” Sana says. “Rip the band aid off.”

Isak hesitates. He does and he doesn’t want to. Is curious and terrified, desperate to see Even and desperate to stay away.

A hand touches his.

“You’re going to feel better afterwards,” Sana says softly.

Isak wonders how much she knows. He squeezes her hand a little before dropping it. The kitchen seems very far away.

 

Even is sitting on the kitchen counter, twirling his phone in his hands. He doesn’t hear when Isak comes in, giving Isak the opportunity to look at him properly, without barriers. He follows Even’s hands up to his wrists, sweater-covered arms up to naked collarbones. 

There’s such an overwhelming impulse to cross the room and wrap his arms around Even, to press his face into the delicate skin behind Even’s ear. He’s going to very soon not be Isak’s husband anymore, but that fact doesn’t change anything. Isak still wants. Isak still needs.

“Hi.”

Even’s head jerks up, wide eyes locking with Isak’s. “Hi.” His voice is hoarse.

“Sana wanted some water,” Isak stays, stilted. “Sparkling. With lemon.”

“It’s in the fridge,” Even says.

Isak nods, taking the three steps up to the fridge, finding the bottle on the bottom shelf. He picks it up and turns around only to be met with Even’s outstretched hand. The glass he’s holding is shaking a little. “Here.”

“Thanks,” Isak says. Manages to pour the drink without spilling, despite feeling Even’s eyes on him.

It’s painfully quiet.

Isak slowly puts the cap back on, trying to win more time. To do what, he’s not sure.

“How have you been?” he asks eventually, only to break the silence.

“Been okay. Had an episode so, you know, a little up and down,” Even says, a faux-smile fleetingly on his face.

“Oh. Was it triggered by…” Isak gestures between them.

“No.”

“Okay,” Isak says. “Do you feel better?”

“All good,” Even says. “Sort of.”

Isak looks down. “Yeah.”

“I wanted to say sorry for before,” Even says. “You were right when you said our friends would get stuck in between.”

“You want to apologise?” Isak asks, thoughts in disarray. “You? To me?”

“Yes. I,” Even says, pointing to himself, “wanted to apologise to you.” He points to Isak.

Isak flushes. “Shut up,” he mumbles.

Even smiles. This time it’s real.

Isak catalogues it, saves the snapshot in the warmest part of his mind.

“We should keep our stuff away from the others,” Even says after a beat. “So it won’t be awkward.”

Isak’s heart falls, but he won’t allow his face to follow. “Sounds good,” he says. “Smart.”

Even nods. “Okay.”

“Did you cut your hair?” Isak asks, a stupid, trivial question. “It looks shorter.”

“Yeah. Eskild did it, actually,” Even says, dragging a hand through his fringe.

“What?” Isak hopes he’s misheard.

“Eskild cut it,” Even says. “He had glowing recommendations, and he held up.”

The thought of Eskild touching Even doesn’t make him jealous, but the privilege and freedom Eskild’s been awarded still knocks the breath out of Isak. The idea of standing close to Even, running his hands through Even’s hair makes him slightly dizzy. He doesn’t have any right to do that, to want that. He needs to leave before doing something stupid.

He lifts Sana’s glass, holds it up to emphasize the legitimacy of the excuse. “I should get back with this.”

“Yeah.”

“I- Thanks for letting me come,” Isak says. “You could’ve said no, and you didn’t, so.”

“Like I said, our friends shouldn’t be caught in the middle,” Even says.

Isak nods, giving a quick smile before leaving. He gives Sana her drink on a detour to the bathroom, leaning back against the door to sort out his breathing. Counts five seconds on the inhale, five on the exhale. Five on the inhale, five on the exhale.

Five on the inhale.

Five on the exhale.

 

He doesn’t see Even again for the rest of the night.

 

*

 

There are a lot of people milling the streets as Isak tries to get to the coffee shop on time. He makes it with only three minutes delay, finding Sana in the corner of the shop, two teacups steaming in front of her. “Hi.”

She smiles at him. “Hey.”

“Sorry I’m late,” Isak says, leaning over to give her a quick hug.

“By your standards, you’re still early. I got you chai.” She pushes one of the cups over to him.

“Thanks. You okay?” He unwinds his scarf, throwing it on an empty chair.

“Good, yeah. You look like you haven’t slept,” Sana says.

He shrugs. “I’m okay.”

“Something happen?”

“Not really,” Isak says.

She looks at him way too knowingly. “The party?”

Isak refuses to be led down that particular path, clears his throat to switch gears instead. “Have you thought any more about switching uni for next term?”

“Not really. I think I’ll take another week to not think about it, and maybe I’ll know then.” Sana shrugs. “It would be a lot of work if I actually went.”

“Yeah. But you like it, right?” Isak asks.

“Of course. Why else would I’ve chosen it?” She says. There’s something pointed in her eyes.

“What?” Isak guards himself by leaning away from the table, taking the cup with him.

“Nothing. I’m just saying that it’s pretty dumb to study something you’re not into,” Sana says.

“I guess,” Isak says carefully. “That doesn’t apply, though.”

Sana sighs. “I’m not talking about me.”

Isak stares blankly at her. She sighs again, more pointedly this time.

“What?” His voice goes embarrassingly high.

“Okay, fine. I’m just gonna say it. Isak,” Sana says, laying down the law. “You’re a library nerd.”

“No, I’m not,” Isak says, slightly offended.

She rolls her eyes before picking up her phone, scrolls for a while, clears her throat and starts to read.

“ _Just did first shift at library_ , three fire emojis. _Gotta love the library_ , with a picture of the stacks downstairs-“

“Everyone likes the stacks downstairs, they’re old ones you have to turn the wheel on to move,” Isak says. He quiets down when she shoots him a look, sinking further down in his chair.

“ _Hate my course_ , sad face. _Summer job at library, fucking score_ with one, two, three, four, five, _six_ exclamation points. _When you’re at work and find three new books for yourself,_ prayer hands emoji. _Just spent ten minutes looking for a medical journal from 1972, found it before Adam_ hashtag _like a boss._ ” She lowers the phone. “You’ve sent me at least one text a week banging on about how much you like your shifts, plus all the videos of moving shelves and pictures of you with your name tag on.”

Isak squirms slightly in his seat. “So?”

“So, I don’t know why you’re trying so hard to stay in engineering when it’s obvious you should switch programmes and just go for a bachelor in library science,” Sana says. “You posted a picture on Instagram where you’re holding up the latest translation of The Odyssey. Do you remember what your caption was?”

Isak hangs his head. “Yes.”

“ _Guess who classified their first book_ hashtag _yes Homer_. That doesn’t even make any sense.”

“Yes it does, it’s, like, instead of no homo,” Isak says. He covers his eyes with his hands. “Okay, fine. I get it.”

“Get what, that you’re a library nerd?”

He can hear her smile.

“Yes, that I’m a library nerd. That doesn’t mean I want to work as one, though.”

Sana reaches over to gently pull one of his hands away, making him look at her. “You already are, and you love it.”

Isak mulls it over. He can’t really deny liking the library gig, but there’s no real prestige in working there. Isak’s dad was really into the idea of Isak choosing engineering, his mum has already told all her friends.

Isak, on the other hand, has told all of _his_ friends about helping Marika the mum find books for her kids.

He looks back at Sana. “Won’t I just have wasted two years if I switch now?”

“Would you rather waste ten?” She asks.

He shakes his head, slowly.

“Isn’t it a good thing to have a background outside of the Humanities when you’re going for a library job?” Sana asks.

Isak narrows his eyes. “Have you been researching this?”

“Of course I have,” she says, looking offended at the implication that she would ever go in blind. “And I found that a lot of libraries have trouble cataloguing books about topics like physics and medicine efficiently, because the staff doesn’t know a lot about those subjects.”

“I heard that too,” Isak says quietly. He runs a hand through his hair, pulling it a little to focus. “I can’t decide to change everything just like that.”

“No one’s saying you should,” Sana says. “Take a week. Don’t think about it, and then decide."

Isak looks at her, smiles a little. “When’s your deadline?”

“On the 23rd,” Sana says. She holds out her hand. “Deal?” 

Isak reaches over to shake it. “Deal.”

 

*

 

It starts out as idle scrolling through his Facebook feed, but Isak ends up finding himself stuck on the website of the shelter Jonas works at. Jonas had posted a link to a litter of kittens that had been found abandoned in a box, leading Isak to click on it and then many others like it. 

There are a lot of cats. A lot. Kittens, young cats, middle aged cats, pensioner cats, they’re all represented on the photographs, in every colour scheme imaginable. Isak takes a look at his empty living room, looks back to the screen, back to the living room, back to the screen.

He’s allowed pets, he’s known that since he moved in, but has never really thought about going for it. As he looks over at the screen, he can’t remember any reason why.

_do you think i should get a cat?_

Not until after it’s sent does he remember that he’s promised himself not to text Sonja unless she texts first.

Despite his misstep, she’s quick to respond. It’s only a cat emojis with heart-eyes, but it’s enough.

He replies with a green heart, feeling his own swell, and goes back to scrolling.

 


	4. cats and categories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything surfaces, and resurfaces.

 

Isak wakes up to a Facebook notification that Even Bech Naesheim has sent him a friend request.

When he opens the app, he finds a message from Even. _Figured it’d be easier to see what events we’re attending and avoid running into each other._

Isak accepts the request, shutting his phone off before he can click on Even’s profile to see all the things that’s been updated since Isak had access last.

 

*

 

Isak’s last proper conversation with Sonja hangs over his head like a particularly nasty cloud, drawing him back to the feeling of seeing her walking out of his flat, with a head held high but on shaky legs.

_can we please meet up and talk? i’m really sorry and i want to apologise, properly this time_

It takes half an hour for her to respond, light-years in Sonja-time.

_Alright. I’ll come over to yours._

Isak knows it’s so she can leave whenever she wants, instead of having to kick him out. He doesn’t blame her.

_of course, just say what day and i’ll be here_

_Tomorrow._

Isak breathes out. _thank you_

 

The next morning dawns with the usual stomach ache and deep rooted fear Isak’s become closely acquainted with every time he’s up for a potential, or actual, loss of family. He had it when his dad left, when his mum moved, before he came out to Jonas, before he came out to Sonja, after Vegas and during pretty much every interaction with Even since Even brought up the fact that Isak never touches him. 

Sonja’s early, Isak has to run into the bedroom to pull a shirt on before answering the door, coffee cup still full to the brim on the counter.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi.” She walks in, but keeps her coat on.

Isak doesn’t know where to start. “I don’t know where to start.”

Sonja nods. “Okay. Would it help if I go first?”

“Yeah, I mean, if you want to.” Isak leans against the doorway, but it feels too casual. Lacing his hands in front of him, too proper. Weighing on one foot, popping the other knee, too douche-y. “Do you want to sit down?” he asks, more in self-despair than anything.

“Alright.”

They go into the kitchen. Isak goes to put the kettle on.

“How long have you been interested in Even?” Sonja asks from behind him.

Isak keeps his eyes on the kettle, carefully filling it up with water. “I’m not sure.”

“Isak-“

“I’m not lying,” he says, turning around. “I really don’t know. I- I thought he was hot, when you were dating, and he was nice, but there was distance, I don’t know.”

“That’s because you put it there,” Sonja points out.

Isak goes back to the kettle, switching it on. “Yeah,” he says, sitting down opposite her. “I did.”

“Did you not spend time with him because you liked him, or because you thought you would like him?” There’s almost no emotion in her voice, sounding more like she’s going through a carefully prepared check list which, with all Isak’s knowledge of Sonja, is probably exactly what she’s doing.

“I thought I would like him,” Isak says. The words sound strange when spoken out loud. “Or, I knew I would.”

“So you kept your distance,” Sonja says.

Isak nods.

“And when we broke up? What made you think I was still into him?” Sonja asks.

“You told me,” Isak says. “A few times.”

“I've tried to think back, and the only time I can remember saying anything like that is when I was drunk,” Sonja says. “Back when I was still trying to get over him, but it’s been years since then, Isak. _Years_. The fact that you just carried on thinking that without even asking me is what’s pissing me off.”

“You said that it would be shitty of me to kiss him,” Isak says, aware of how far he’s trying to compensate for his own mistakes. “That was way later, after we got married. I didn’t make that up.”

She sighs. “Okay?”

“So, that’s a thing. You wouldn’t have said that if you didn’t want him back,” Isak says.

“Really?” Sonja says, crossing her arms. “Fine, I’ll bite. When was this?”

“We were at the bar, and we were drinking and you asked me if I’d slept with Even, or if I’d kissed him.” Isak takes a breath, can feel himself getting worked up about having to go over it all again, and out loud at that. “And I said no, and you said ‘why’ and I said ‘because I’m not into him’ and-“

“And you never thought that was the reason?” Sonja asks. “Even and I are friends. You shouldn’t kiss a friend of mine if you don’t want him. That would be shit.”

Isak stares at her. Something inside him brightens at the same time as something else is lost.

“Fuck, Isak.” She runs a hand through her hair, frustrated. “Are we even friends at this point? Cause it feels like you made me up like this whole other person in your head.”

“Of course we are,” Isak says, his voice gone raspy. “You’re one of my best friends.”

Sonja looks down. “I just don’t understand how you could think all this and not once talk to me. It feels like you don’t care.”

“I do care,” Isak says. “It wasn’t. I was trying not to hurt you.”

“By not talking to me,” Sonja says. "And thinking you knew what I was feeling because of stuff I said ages ago."

“I never said I was any good at it,” Isak says automatically, freezing a little when the casualness of it kicks in.

Against all odds, Sonja snorts. “Well, at least that’s something.” She points behind him. “Kettle’s done.”

“Do you want tea?” He asks.

She looks at him for a moment, before nodding slowly. “Okay.”

Isak gets up to fix her a cup. When he turns back to the table, her coat is folded neatly on the chair.

 

It takes time. It takes a lot of time, going over all the misconceptions that has been present for years. Unpacking them, dismantling them. Trying to get over them. Turns out that both of them have carried around ideas of explanations for the behaviour of others.

As Sonja leaves almost ten hours later, relief grows in Isak, not because they’ve worked everything out, but because they’ve started to.

 

*

 

The week for thinking about his educational future is over and Isak takes the tram to Sana’s after his lecture to talk through their respective decisions. The last seven days have done nothing but confirm his disinterest in his current topic of study, making him feel slightly stupid for not raising the alarm himself. He should’ve known something was up when everyone around him seemed enraptured and he simply felt exhausted. The thought of becoming a full time librarian causes a bout of excitement inside, the first in a long time.

Entering the Bakkoush household has never been anything but comfortable, except for right now. Nerves are creeping in as Isak walks up the stairs, not knowing what’ll meet him inside. He’s fairly sure Even’s told his boys about what happened, even if Isak hasn’t done the same to his. Whether or not Elias is going to resent him for it is still unknown. Also, there’s a slight chance he might bump into Even in the flat. It wouldn’t be the first time.

The five second wait after knocking on the door ages him ten years. The sight of Sana’s mum whiplashes him back to being twelve years old and desperate to make all his friends’ parents like him.

“Hi, Isak!” She opens the door, gesturing for him to come in.

“Hi, how are you?” Isak toes off his shoes, lining them with the carpet before struggling out of his coat.

“I’m good, how are you?” She smiles at him. “I heard you’ve been helping Sana work through her decision.”

“Well, I’ve tried,” Isak says. “Not sure how much good it’s done, but.”

“Having friends ready to share your problems are always a good thing,” she says.

He smiles at her, looking around the surprisingly empty hall. “It’s so quiet here today.”

She laughs. “Elias and his friends are out, so that takes the volume down quite a lot.”

Relief washes through him. “Ah. That explains it.”

“Was that Isak?” Sana asks, voice coming from inside the flat.

Her mum smiles. “She’s in the living room.”

“Thanks,” Isak says, taking off.

 

“Hey,” Sana says, patting the couch next to her. 

Isak folds into the space. “Hi.”

“So, it's the 23rd,” Sana says. “You ready?”

“Yeah, you?” Isak asks, getting a nod in return. “You go first.”

“Staying,” Sana says immediately. “I’m staying. I’ll probably move later, but I’m staying for now.”

“Nice,” Isak says, leaning in to bump their shoulders.

“What’s yours?” Sana asks. “Share with the group, come on.”

Isak takes a deep breath. “I’m switching.”

She smiles. “Knew it. That’s awesome. You’re gonna have to buy some cardigans, though.”

“I could be a hoodie guy,” Isak protests. “They’re gonna need someone cool.”

Sana wrinkles her nose. “You’re gonna be the hoodie guy at the library? The weird one who thinks he’s down with the kids?”

“I don’t have to be down with the kids,” Isak says. “The kids are gonna be down with me.”

“That is the worst thing you have ever said,” Sana says.

“I know. But anyway, library and information science.” Isak breathes out. “That’s my pick.”

“It’s a good one,” Sana says. “Any other life decisions made, now that we’re on the subject?”

He knows what she’s asking for, but he can’t talk about it. Swerving the question, he goes for, “I’ve been looking into getting a cat.”

“Really?” Sana asks. “That’s cool. My neighbour’s got a cranky one you can adopt.”

“Why would I want a cranky cat?” Isak asks, rolling her eyes when she raises her eyebrows. “Very funny.”

“I thought so. It’s gonna start resembling you sooner or later anyway, why not get it right from the get-go?”

“Isn’t it only dogs that do that?” Isak asks.

“Pretty sure it goes for all animals. My cousin has a horse that’s got the same temperament as her,” Sana says. “Not the same face, though.”

Isak snorts. “Good for her. And no, I haven’t found one. I’m not even sure I’m gonna go through with it, I’ve just been looking a little.”

“Cool,” Sana says. “Anything else?”

He shakes his head. “No.”

“Okay.” Sana scoots just a tiny bit closer before handing him her laptop. “I’m having problems remembering the correct MeSH terms for heart diseases.”

“You know you can just look those up when you need to use them in a search,” Isak says. “I’m a librarian, I know these things.”

“You're a library assistant," she says. "Would you just quiz me, please?”

“Okay,” he says, settling in.

The familiar rhythm of them learning things together does wonders for his heart rate, even managing to quiet down the voice of worry always present in the back of his mind.

 

*

 

Isak doesn’t get mail a lot. It’s not like most things can be done electronically, often cheaper, and he doesn’t have any pen pals, meaning his hallway floor is more often than not empty when he walks through the door.

Not today.

It’s a big envelope, official looking in a way Isak can neither define nor deny. He knows what it’ll say before he opens it, so he doesn’t.

He carries it through the flat, into his bedroom and into the box he’s put in the corner of his closet. Carefully slots it in between the marriage certificate and the astrology book, closing the lid.

A marriage that never was.

 

*

 

Isak hardly has time to do more than walk through the door before Jonas snags him away, putting a bottle of gin in his hands along with two paper cups. “I’ve got Schweppes,” he says, pulling Isak along.

“Why do you have paper cups?” Isak asks, frowning down at them.

“They were in the kitchen,” Jonas says. “Apparently, it’s easier to clean afterwards if you use paper and not glass.”

“That makes sense,” Isak says. “I’ve forgotten whose house this is already.”

Jonas shrugs, holding the door to an empty bedroom open. “Someone in Mags’ course, I think.”

“Oh, yeah.” Isak looks around. “It’s very pink.”

“There’s a bathroom in there, I checked,” Jonas says. “I’ve got some weed.”

“Wow,” Isak says, strolling over. “Going all out.”

“Yeah, well, I think I have to,” Jonas mutters, waving Isak off as he shoots him a look. “Never mind.”

“Alright,” Isak says, opening the door to what proves to be a bathroom. “Hey, there’s a tub. Awesome.”

They close the door behind them, settling in like they’ve done countless of times in countless houses.

“Did you pre-game?” Isak asks.

“Nah.” Jonas unscrews the gin. “I just brought all of it here.”

“I’ll pay you for it,” Isak says, eyeing the way Jonas adds way too much into the cups. “Slow down, what are you, fourteen? Chill.”

“Bottoms up,” Jonas says, saluting Isak.

Isak dutifully knocks it back, taking two swigs before he has to pause for breath. “You didn’t put any mixer in!”

“Not yet,” Jonas says. “Filled them too much.”

“Fuck,” Isak says, a hand on his chest. ”That burns.”

“Get used to it,” Jonas says, already on to the next one.

 

They haven’t even gotten into the joints before Isak realizes he’s well on his way to be drunker than he has in a long while. He squints at Jonas. 

“Are you trying to get me drunk?”

“I’m trying to get me drunk,” Jonas says. “And I’m really good at it.”

“Why do you need to be drunk?” Isak asks. “Are you okay?”

“Me? Yeah, I’m good. I am gooood.” Jonas takes another sip, balling up his mostly empty cup and letting it fall to the floor. “But you’re not.”

“I’m fine,” Isak says on reflex.

Jonas leans back, tilts his head in Isak’s direction and looks at him. It’s not until Isak looks away that he realizes he hasn’t met Jonas’ gaze in weeks, too afraid of what Jonas might find in there.

Isak pours himself another glass, this time with only Schweppes, sipping it slowly. His head is starting to ache a little. “I made Sonja mad. And Even.”

Jonas waits him out, keeping a steady gaze.

“You know the whole thing in Vegas?”

“What, the wedding? That thing?”

The word still makes something in Isak yearn to have his memories restored, if only to see what Even looked like in those few, life-changing minutes. If he smiled. If he laughed. If he leaned over to kiss Isak after it was done.

Isak nods. “Yeah. The wedding. I… I felt really shit about that, because he’s Sonja’s ex, and I thought she was still in love with him and then _I_ was in love with him, and he asked me out and I said no, because Sonja’s my- she’s my- she’s _Sonja_ , you know, and then she got mad because apparently, she’s not in love with Even, it’s just me but Even is mad because I said that thing about Sonja, and so now I don’t have either of them.”

Jonas looks a little confused. Isak looks away.

“Or, Sonja said that we could start hanging out again but that I had to promise to not pull that shit, and I won’t. Well, I hope I won’t.” Isak frowns into his cup. “I don’t have the best track record.”

”Wait, hang on,” Jonas says. “You talked it out with Sonja but not with Even? Why?”

“I- well, it would be. He wouldn’t want to talk about that. With me,” Isak says, pointing to himself for emphasise.

Jonas scoffs. “Bullshit.”

“It’s not,” Isak says, shaking his head. It makes him dizzy, so he does it a few more times. “Nope. Doesn’t want to talk about it.”

“You’re drunk,” Jonas says.

“Yup.” Isak makes sure to pop the ‘p’. He takes another sip.

“Yeah. That’s my point,” Jonas says, stealing Isak’s drink.

“Hey,” Isak says, pouting as he watches Jonas drain it. “That’s mine. And you didn’t have a point.”

Jonas gestures to Isak’s general person. “This is my point. You’re drunk in a bathtub, and this is when you finally tell me that oh, by the way, that guy you were kinda married to? Totally in love with him. And that’s only after I push you. There’s no way this is on Even, since you didn’t even want to talk to _me_ about it.”

“I’m sorry. It’s not you,” Isak says, trying to collect himself a little, sitting up.

“I know it’s not me,” Jonas says. “You’re just weird about this stuff.”

Isak mulls it over. “I guess.”

“You guess? I’ve known you for like, three hundred years, and you’ve never talked about liking someone, even after you came out. I don’t even know if you’ve slept with anyone,” Jonas says, voice getting a little heated. “I only know that you’ve hooked up with people because I’ve seen it at parties and shit. You know everything about me.”

“I know,” Isak mumbles.

“Everything,” Jonas says. “So maybe it’s not so weird that Even doesn’t want to start a conversation about what happened when you’ve already rejected him once based on this… prejudice you had about Sonja, and then-“

“It wasn’t a prejudice,” Isak says. “I thought she wanted him.”

“Did you check that with her?”

Isak shakes his head.

“Right. So all Even knows is that one, he asked you out, two, you said no and three, you lied about why you said no.” Jonas lobbies the paper cup through the air, hitting the sink.

“I didn’t lie,” Isak says.

“How the fuck is he supposed to know that?” There’s finality in Jonas’ voice, making Isak swallow all the excuses trying to take root.

He watches Jonas climb out of the bathtub, standing up on somewhat unsteady legs. Jonas reaches out a hand to him. “Come on.”

Isak pulls himself up, assisted by Jonas. “I don’t feel so good.”

“I know,” Jonas says. “You can stay at mine, I’ll take you home.”

They get out into the hall, managing to find their coats and shoes, shouting a goodbye over their shoulders. There’s a brisk wind outside, chilling Isak right to the bone.

“I’m sorry,” Isak says, words a little slurred.

Jonas pulls him into his side. “It’s okay.”

It’s not so cold after that.

 

*

 

Isak spends the next few days in a haze of Being Alright, trying hard to keep a front up that’s not obvious in is frailty. He doesn’t know how well he succeeds, but no one outright calls him on it, which is really all he can hope for.

He manages to apply for the bachelor programme in library and information science at least, updating the page a few times to make sure he really did send it in. He swivels around in his chair a few times, the only celebration he allows himself.

Checking and re-checking the page once more before logging off, he sends of a quick text to Sana, a good way for future Isak to be able to confirm he actually did apply in real life, and not just in a fever dream.

There’s nothing really he can do about this life decision of his other than wait. It’s disappointingly anti-climatic. He needs another boost, preferably from someone involved in the new world he’s chosen.

Isak opens up his email, scrolling through to find Oskar’s contact. It’s not like they’re close, but working with him for two summers, and being interviewed by him a few times surely must be a good enough foundation for it being alright to ask for advice. It's worth a shot, at least.

_Hi Oskar,_

_I just applied for a BA in LIS, and thought I should check with you if my engineering background is going to be a problem when I’m looking for a librarian job later on? I’m not going to change my mind if it doesn’t, but I don’t really know that much about the job market and feel a little worried, so thankful for all the advice you have, really._

_//Isak Valtersen_

He looks at the page, goes back and corrects.

_//Isak (Valtersen)_

Worse.

_Kind regards,_

_Isak Valtersen_

Too formal.

_All the best, Isak Valtersen_

No.

_//Isak Valtersen_

He sends it.

 

*

 

The cat thing is starting to become a problem, Isak’s spent way too much time scrolling through various Google searches and shelter websites lately and he needs to just make a decision already.

He walks into Jonas’ job determined to do nothing but look around and to get a feel of what it would mean to take an animal home. That plan turns to dust the moment he sees the four-year-old, nameless cat who was found almost starved in a back alley.

“He’s been here longer than me,” Jonas says, wriggling his fingers through the bars of the cage before moving on after getting no response. “He’s a little withdrawn. The kittens are down here.”

Isak stays where he is. “Hi,” he says to the cat. It lifts its head up slightly, tail curling in on itself. Just like that, the deal is done.

“I’ll take him,” he says.

Jonas comes back. “Of course you will,” he says, clapping Isak on the back. “You’ll be great, you share the same amount of love for social interaction.”

Isak scowls at him. He’s not sure, but he thinks the cat does the same.

“Are you sure you don’t want to look around some more?” Jonas asks.

“I’m sure,” Isak says. He’s not used to making the right decision, but he still recognises the feeling when it happens.

“Okay,” Jonas says. “I need to give you a bunch of info before you can start filling out stuff.”

Isak crouches down and gives the cat a small wave. “I’ll see you soon.”

Jonas laughs at him. “Wow. It’s already begun.”

“Hush,” Isak mumbles. “Can I take a photo of him? Or is he gonna be freaked out?”

“It’s fine as long as you don’t use a flash,” Jonas says. “So many idiots use their flash, I didn’t know that was still a thing on mobile phones.”

Isak is too busy getting a good shot to respond. After twenty tries, he puts his phone back in his pocket, sure that one of them is gonna be at least passable.

 

After a cat lecture and more filled-out forms than what was involved in his divorce, Isak leaves the shelter in a supremely good mood. He immediately posts the best picture on his Instagram, a caption consisting of five cat emojis and _new flatmate alert!!!!_  

He checks his accumulated likes a few hours later. Sonja is one of them. A little part of the weight lifts from Isak’s shoulders.

 

*

 

Ironically enough, the next time Isak is over at Sana’s, he does run into Even. They’re both end up getting ready to leave at the same time, Isak after having spent a few hours watching Grey’s Anatomy with Sana, both with extremely well-worked out excuses as to why they have a scientific interest in the show and don’t just like it for the drama, and Even after being locked up in Elias’ room for hours.

“Is this still awkward?” Elias whispers way too loudly to Sana, gesturing between Isak and Even. “I can’t remember.”

She elbows him in the stomach. “Be quiet.”

“I’ll text you about the party,” Even says, giving Elias a hug. “Nice to see you, Sana.”

He’s out the door before Isak’s managed to get his shoes on the right foot. Sana gives him a quick hug after he’s sorted himself out, before shoving him out the door. “Catch up with him, go on.”

Isak throws a smile over his shoulder before running down the stairs. Out on the street, he has to pause for a second to see which way Even went. It should be to the left, but instinct tells Isak to go the opposite way. Turns out he’s right.

Even’s going in his normal speed, but with his head down. Isak convinces himself to approach anyway.

“Can I walk with you?” Isak asks, slightly out of breath.

“Okay.” Even replies, not looking at him.

Isak will take what he can get. “Okay.”

They walk in silence for a minute, looking up as the snow starts to fall.

“Do you want my scarf?” Isak asks, unwinding it and holding out to Even. He looks cold, the collar of his jacket turned up, hands in pockets.

“I’m good,” Even says.

“It’s cold,” Isak says, keeping his arm stretched out.

Even hesitates for a moment before sighing. “Fine.”

He puts it on. Isak tries very hard not to combust at the sight of the well-worn fabric hugging Even’s shoulders, covering his neck. Even looks good in it, but that’s hardly a surprise.

“I heard you’re getting a cat,” Even says suddenly.

“Yeah. From Jonas’ job.” Isak pulls up his phone, shows Even the lock screen. “He just needs to be checked by the vet, and then I can take him home.”

Even nods. “What’s his name?”

“Doesn’t have one yet,” Isak says. “Do you… have any suggestions?”

“I don’t know, maybe a character from a film you like? Or a book?”

“What would you name it? If you got one,” Isak says. He subtly tries to walk a little closer to Even, imagine himself feeling some of Even’s warmth through his layers of clothes.

“Well, first of all, it would be a dog,” Even says. “And it would be called Bonjour.

Isak laughs. “Bonjour?”

“Yeah,” Even says, smiling a little. “Wouldn’t that be great?”

“Maybe not in Paris,” Isak says. “You’d confuse a lot of people.”

“Probably insult them too,” Even says.

Isak hums. “I guess.”

Even slows, gesturing to the bus stop. “I’m gonna get the five from here.”

“Okay,” Isak says. “Yeah, of course. I’ll. I’ll see you around.”

“See you,” Even says, not giving Isak time to respond before walking away.

Isak has to force his feet to move and his mind to stop overthinking. He gets home cold, immediately getting under the covers, pulling them up to his chin. It’s not until he replays the few seconds of Even smiling over and over again that he falls into something of a peaceful slumber.

 

*

 

The next few days are calm, Isak going through the motions at uni but not investing too much. It’d be stupid to give up his current studies when he’s not yet sure he’s going to be accepted into his new choice, but he’s lost all motivation. Part of him wants to just let it die and leave the current term unfinished, but he’s still on the fence about it.

He comes home after a walk to find Eskild in his kitchen, sipping tea and reading sorting through the various piles of paper collected on the table. “You need to organize these better.”

“It’s nothing important,” Isak says, going up to grab a glass of water.

“What if there are bills in here that you’ve forgotten?”

“I get all of them in the app,” Isak says.

“Well aren’t you modern,” Eskild says, leaning back in his chair to take a look at Isak. “You look good.”

“Thanks. You too,” Isak says, draining his glass. He squints at Eskild. “Have you started going to the gym?”

“I have!” Eskild says, flexing his biceps. “Nice, huh? I haven’t told anyone cause I wanted people to notice on their own.”

“Yeah? How’s that working out?” Isak asks.

“You’re the first one,” Eskild says, shrugging. “But I’ve been wearing a lot of layers, so that’s probably why.”

Isak hums.

“Can we have a sleepover?” Eskild asks. “I don’t wanna go home.”

“Sure.” Isak puts his glass in the sink. “I’m gonna take a shower.”

“I’ll get the food started,” Eskild says, getting up to hug Isak before he can leave. “Thank you.”

Isak holds him tight. “No problem.”

 

They spend the next few hours in front of the TV, Eskild insisting on watching all the news shows to catch the hot weather guy that’s been ‘plaguing his dreams lately’. The two times the dude is actually on is celebrated with a round of applause, before Eskild shushes Isak to catch every word being said. 

At the end of the night, Isak feels more in tune with the news of the world in a long time. He sends off a quick text to Jonas about the latest development in financial reform, getting a _look who’s woken up_ in response, before joining Eskild in brushing his teeth.

“I saw Sonja yesterday,” Eskild says, spraying a bit of toothpaste onto the mirror.

“How is she?” Isak asks.

“You haven’t talked to her?” Eskild asks.

“Not really. We’ve been texting a little, but that’s it.” Isak frowns. “I don’t know, I don’t want to push her.”

“Smart,” Eskild says. “She seemed fine but then again, everyone is fine in my presence, so.”

Isak rolls his eyes. “Yeah, right.” He leans down to rinse his mouth. “But seriously, do you think I should stay low for a while?”

Eskild ponders it, tilting his head. “Yeah. Just keep in touch every now and then, so she knows you’re there.”

“Okay.”

They climb into bed, both lying on their backs.

“You want to make pancakes tomorrow?” Eskild asks.

“Not really,” Isak says. “It’s way too much work.”

“Cereal?”

“Cereal. And coffee.” Isak snuggles deeper into his pillow. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Eskild says, turning the lamp off.

If Isak were to spend his life with a platonic soul mate, Eskild would definitely be it.

 

*

 

_I have your scarf._

Isak worries his bottom lip, typing and retyping a response. This could be an opportunity to reach out, but he doesn’t want to overstep and be pushy.

Luckily, Even sends another message before Isak has time to completely deconstruct the first one.

_Are you working rn?_

_yeah, i’m on break_

Even starts typing immediately. _I’ll come by later._

_you don’t have to, it’s no stress_

The longer Even keeps the scarf, the more likely it is that it’ll smell like him when it’s returned. Looking at the text however, it does seem like Isak’s, once again, rejecting Even.

Fuck.

_but if you want to, we’re open til ten_

Five seconds of despair. _Ok._

 

Isak can’t sit still for the rest of the shift, keeps glancing at the doors to see if one of the best people in the world has stopped by. A woman comes up to ask about the closed stacks, making Isak focus on his explanation for a few minutes. 

He sees Adam get up from his chair, but doesn’t think anything of it until the lady has walked away and Even comes into full view. Isak can’t help but stare a little as Even smiles at Adam, talking with both hands and words.

“I haven’t seen you here in forever,” Adam says. “You never visit.”

“I’m not a student,” Even says.

“Still,” Adam says. “Do you want to sit behind the desk?”

He gestures to the abandoned chair.

Even huffs out a laugh. “What do you think this is, take your son to work day?”

“Yes,” Adam says promptly. “Now sit down.”

Even dutifully follows Adam, perching on the chair. Isak has to swallow a few times when Even looks over. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Even says.

Adam looks between them, waits them out for a few seconds before rolling his eyes. “Alright guys, good talk.”

Isak looks away, feels the blush creep up his neck.

“Okay, so what do I do now?” Even asks, swivelling a little. “Do I just sit here? This is what you get paid for?” He smiles at Adam.

“Excuse you, it takes a lot to sit in these chairs,” Adam says. “They have no backrest.”

“You should know,” Isak mumbles.

“Hey, that was one time!” Adam says, turning an accusatory finger at Isak. “And I didn’t even fall, I caught myself.”

“Sure,” Isak says, smiling innocently. “Absolutely, you did.”

“At least I don’t get lost in the stacks,” Adam says.

“It was my first shift,” Isak says. “That’s just mean.”

“He had to call me,” Adam says to Even. “Freaking out about not finding the elevator.”

“It’s a maze down there,” Isak says.

“I’ve only been there once, but it freaked me out,” Even says, keeping his focus on Adam.

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” Adam says. “Otherwise you have to get out of my chair.”

“I think we both know that’s not going to happen,” Even says, unzipping his jacket.

“Rude,” Adam says. “I should never have invited you.”

“Technically, Isak did,” Even says. His eyes flit over to Isak. “Right?”

Isak tries for a casual shrug, but is unable to hide his pride in being included, smile taking over. “Technically, you invited yourself.”

Even’s face dramatically drop. “Wow. Woow. Okay. That’s the way you want to play it?”

Isak laughs at him, “I’m not playing!”

Even smiles back, but it's fleeting at best. “Good to know,” he says, bit of an edge to his voice.

The blush creeps higher on Isak’s cheeks. He doesn’t try to hide it.

 

Even leaves twenty minutes later. Isak’s scarf is still wrapped around his neck.

 

*

 

_You owe me a cleaning job._

Isak frowns, hitching his backpack up higher on his shoulder. _what, now???_

_Yeah, I’m cashing in. Mum’s down._

_i’ll be there in 20_

 

It’s a little weird, going in to Magnus’ mum’s flat without knocking, but Magnus did send a message saying the door was open which technically makes it okay. Still, it’s a little eerie to just walk in. 

“Hey, look who’s on time,” Magnus says, poking his head out from the kitchen.

“First time for everything,” Isak says. He puts his bag down in the corner of the couch, looking around. He’s only been here a few times, back before Magnus moved out but other than it being slightly more untidy than he remembers, everything looks the same. “How’s your mum?”

“You don’t have to whisper, she’s not here,” Magnus says. “She’s got, like, an hour of therapy left before coming home.”

“Oh, okay. Does she usually go to therapy when she’s depressed?” Isak asks.

Magnus shrugs. “When she’s starting to feel better. She says it’s like a kick in the ass for her brain to stop producing a bunch of shit.”

“Sure she does,” Isak says, smiling a little.

“Okay, so I edited it a little, but the gist of it’s true,” Magnus says.

Isak leans against the doorway. “What do you need help with?”

“Trash needs to go out, I put out the vacuum, clothes are in the dryer in the basement and I stripped the bed, so that needs new sheets. I’ll do the two last ones though, a little creepy if you started poking in that.”

“Agreed,” Isak says. “You want me to start with the vacuuming?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” Magnus says. “And put on some music, you can stick your phone into the speakers in the living room.”

Isak settles on a terrible playlist of techno, hearing Magnus’ whoop as the first song starts up. He shakes his head before getting into gear.

 

*

 

By pure chance, Isak happens to see Even logged onto Skype just after Isak’s just finished a call to his mum. He hesitates for a second, before clicking on Even’s profile.

_hi!_

_Hey_

_i’ve never seen you logged in before_

_Had a conference call with a producer. We asked for a meeting when she’s in Oslo next, and she wanted to make sure we weren’t complete losers._

_what’s the verdict??_

_Hahaha. I think we passed._

Isak sends a couple of clapping hands. Even responds with a smiley.

Isak worries his bottom lip, starts typing again. _are you still at work?_

_Kind of. Packing up to go home now._

_cool._ Isak takes a breath, goes out on a limb. _do you want to go get coffee or something?_

A full minute passes.

_I could do that._

_Wait, no I can’t, I need to get home. My parents are coming over._

_And I need to start dinner._

_And get groceries before that._

Isak taps a finger against his desk, then typing quickly. _i could help w the groceries, i’m really good at speed-shopping_

_You are? You’re usually pretty slow._

_ehm, excuse you even i am extremely fast. have you ever seen me whiz through a dairy aisle??? pls_

_Yeah, okay. See you in fifteen at the shop around the corner from mine?_

Isak grins, feeling his entire chest fill up with hope.  _you’re on_

 

Isak’s the first to arrive, clutching his eco-friendly shopping bags Jonas got him as a house warming gift ages ago. Even looks more dressed up than usual, a button up and blazer peeking out from under his coat. 

“Look who’s slow now,” Isak says, swallowing around the urge to get his hands on Even, push him up against the wall and make out until all dinner plans are forgotten. He scales back to smiling at Even instead, trying for a more subdued approach.

“Doesn’t count until we’re actually shopping,” Even says, stopping a few steps in front of Isak.

“Do you have a list?” Isak asks.

“Of course,” Even says, digging up a folded piece of paper from his pocket. “Handwritten and everything.”

“Fancy,” Isak says, overly aware of how nervous he sounds. “Do you want to go in?”

“Did you bring tote bags?” Even asks as they walk through the doors.

“Yeah. More time efficient than buying plastic ones,” Isak says, tapping a finger against his temple. “It’s all about strategy.”

“Sure,” Even says, grabbing a basket. “Those seconds are really going to make a difference.”

“You’ll see,” Isak says. “Where do we start?”

“Bread,” Even says. “I need baguettes.”

Isak starts walking, sneaking a look over at Even.

“I still can’t believe you let Eskild cut your hair,” Isak blurts out, eyeing the fringe escaping from Even’s careful styling.

“Yeah, well, I wanted to get some info on if you were okay, and he seemed like a good option,” Even says, already halfway down the bread aisle before he realizes Isak’s stopped short. Even throws a look over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “You coming?”

Isak nods, quickly. Walks up next to Even, a little closer than before.

 

They manage to work their way through the entire list without pausing their conversation once. It’s nice, getting a more thorough update than what Isak’s been able to scrape together from various social media, hearing Even himself describe projects he’s working on and parties he’s been to.

It's clear from the stories that he hasn't been idle while they've been out of touch, but Isak still feels like there's a friendlier tone to Even's voice now, a small step back to how it used to sound when they spoke to each other.  

Isak spends most of their time listening, but talks a little about uni when prompted. He’s longing to know more about Even though, steering the conversation back every chance he has. He also manages to get a couple of casual touches into the mix, a brush of fingers when handing over the list, a light grab of the arm to steer Even in the right direction, a nudge of his foot to direct his attention to the display of Turkish yoghurt.

Compared to their shopping trip in Ikea, Isak might as well just have been ravaging Even against the shelves. The fact that Even doesn’t shy away is enough for Isak to completely forget about not spending the night together, feeling perfectly content in waving Even off outside the shop, continuing home on his own.

They’re getting somewhere. Finally, they’re getting somewhere.

 

Isak wakes up early the next morning, enough to call Sonja at eight o’clock, something he hasn’t done since they had their Talk.

“Morning,” she says, picking up after a few rings.

“Hey,” Isak says. His voice is still hopelessly coarse from sleep. “How are you?”

Sonja snorts. “I’m good, but you sound like you’re dying. Did you go out last night?”

“No,” Isak says. “I’ve just woken up, I’m a little groggy.”

“And the first thing you did was to call me?” Sonja asks. “I feel honoured.”

“Well, you should,” Isak says, listening to her quiet huff of laughter. “I… how are you?”

“Good.”

“Good,“ he says. “I’ve been thinking about something, and I don’t want to hide it from you.”

“Okay.”

“I- I still have feelings. For Even. And... I don’t know, I don’t think he does, but I just wanted you to know that I want to be with him.” Isak closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What do you think about that?”

Sonja stays quiet for a moment. “I think that I didn’t mind it before, so why would I mind it now?”

He breathes out. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she says. “But Isak?”

“Yeah.”

“You better be sure,” Sonja says. “I don’t want him hurt again.”

Isak nods.

“Isak?”

“Oh, shit, yeah. Sorry, I-“

“You just nodded, didn’t you?” Sonja says, exasperation clear in her voice.

“Yeah,” Isak says, slightly sheepish.

“How do you still not know how a phone works?” Sonja asks, a well-known topic of debate.

“I do know how it works, but I don’t understand why you’re so stubborn on talking on the phone-“

“Hey, you called me, Valtersen.”

“-instead of just doing this via Skype,” Isak says.

“I don’t like Skype,” Sonja says.

“That’s because you’re paranoid,” Isak says, smiling a little.

“It’s just good sense,” Sonja says. “I don’t need people recording my conversations.”

“You think it’s less likely for them to be recording phone calls?” Isak asks.

There’s a brief pause. “See, if this was on Skype, they would have known that I just flipped you off,” Sonja says.

“But instead you chose to just tell them flat out,” Isak says, yawning through the last few words.

“Okay, that’s fair,” Sonja says.

“Mhm.”

“Go back to sleep,” she says. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Promise?” Isak mumbles.

“Promise,” she says.

Isak goes back to sleep.

 

*

 

Slowly, very slowly, Isak manages to work up a correspondence with Even again. It's not a lot, especially not in the beginning, but Facebook likes lead to comments which leads to messages in the chat, transferring to an occasional phone call. 

He wants so much to just bulldoze his way back into Even's life, but he needs to earn that privilege and patience is a good currency for that. They don't really meet up outside of group outings, during which they're back to being polite, but sometimes Even will send him a message with a comment about something Magnus' said or Mutta is talking about, making Isak feel like they have a tiny bit of their relationship kept hidden from the world, proof that Even maybe values their newfound connection too, though maybe not as much as Isak does. 

Isak doesn't mind. He's fine with being one step ahead of Even in the commitment scale, especially if they keep moving like they have done. His life isn't dependent on having Even in it, but a large portion of his happiness is, and he's come to find that that's okay. 

He can be in love with Even. He might not get to have him, but he's still allowed to love him. 

 

*

 

Isak’s has only had his cat for about four days, but already he's borrowed roughly fifteen books on all things cat-related from the library. Sitting on the living room floor with them all spread out in front of him, he has no idea where to start. To top it off, the cat has strolled in and taken a seat on top of one of the books, hiding the entire thing.

“Is that your favourite?” Isak asks. “Cause if so, we’ll start with that one.”

There is some twitching of whiskers. Isak takes that as a no.

“Alright, then we’ll go ahead with this one.” He picks up one of the thicker volumes. “The big books of cats, sound good?”

He opens it, scanning through the table of contents. “Oh. This is just different kinds of cats.” He opens it to a random page, holds it up. “Do you know them?”

His phone goes off before he can interpret the response.

_I’m bored._

Isak’s heart rate speeds up. “It’s Even,” he tells the cat. He opens the camera, angling it to include all the books. “Okay, look cute.”

He snaps the picture, sending it off. _i’m researching_

_Is this a reboot of how to train your dragon?_

_that’s exactly it._ Isak bites his lip, takes the jump. _you want to be a cast member?_

_Obviously! I’m on my way._

“He's coming here,” Isak says. “It’s fine, we just need to stay calm, okay? Okay. Calm. That's- yes. We can do that. Right?”

The cat yawns.

 

It doesn’t take long before the intercom goes off, scaring the cat into running off to the bedroom.

Isak buzzes Even in and has time to wipe his hands on his jeans a few times before Even knocks on the door. “Hi.”

“Hello,” Even says.

They both stand awkwardly for a few seconds before Isak carefully leans in for a quick hug. Even’s smiling when they pull back. Isak is mostly blushing.

“No work today?” Isak asks, stepping back to let Even in.

“No, we decided to take a day off, Mikael had some stuff,” Even says. “No lectures?”

Isak shrugs. “There is, but nothing mandatory, so I skipped.”

“Wow, very badass of you,” Even says.

“I know, I'm living on the edge,” Isak says. “Do you want to meet the cat?”

Even raises an eyebrow. “You still haven’t named him?”

“I haven’t found a good one yet,” Isak says. “I don’t want to give him a shitty name and then regret it.”

“Makes sense,” Even says. “Where is he?”

Isak gestures into the bedroom. “He’s hiding, I think. I’ll go and get him.”

“Alright. Is it okay if I grab a glass of water?” Even asks.

“Yeah, of course, sure.” Isak nods. “Make yourself at home.”

Even smiles at him, making Isak stumble a little despite standing still.

“I’m gonna…” Isak points to the bedroom. “I’m. Yup.” He flees the scene, not wanting to accidentally look in the hallway mirror and see the current shade of pink on his face.

The cat is just barely visible underneath the bed. Isak crouches down, holding out a hand. “Hey, buddy. Do you want to come out?”

The cat moves infinitesimally closer to him. Isak takes it as a win.

“I promise we won’t scare you. Even is really nice, he’s getting some water right now. You like water. That’s something you can bond over right there,” Isak says, keeps talking as it seems to coax the cat out of hiding. “Oh, and you’ve got fish, both big fans of that. He’s not that into chasing string, but maybe you can turn him around.”

He carefully lifts the cat up in his arms, cuddling him close as they move back out into the living room. Even’s sitting in Isak’s abandoned spot, long legs stretched out in front of him. If Isak were a brave man, he’d sit in between them. Since he’s not, he settles for taking a seat opposite Even.

“This is the cat,” he says, bending down to kiss it between the ears. “And this is Even.”

“Nice to meet you,” Even says, taking a little half-bow. “Is he okay with strangers?”

“He’s alright I think, he hasn’t met that many yet,” Isak says.

Even nods. “By the way, this whole thing…” he gestures to the surrounding books. “Very catty.”

“Funny,” Isak says.

“Thank you.” Even picks up one of the books. “This one is about travelling with cats. Are you gonna do that?”

Isak shrugs. “I don’t know, figured it’s best to be prepared.”

“Like a scout,” Even says, nodding. “Cool. Shall we?”

“Let’s do it.”

Isak doesn’t contribute much except for interspersing Even’s reading with random comments and impossible questions. He manages to get Even to laugh seven times, a new record. Eventually, the cat wanders over to circle Even a few times and letting him give a few pats before getting distracted by the reflections of the sun on the floor.

“Here,” Isak says, handing over one of the socks hid under the couch.

Even takes a look at it. Looks back up at Isak. “What.”

“He likes to play with it. It’s kinda like fetch, but with more tugging,” Isak says. “I think he hung out with dogs when he was little.”

“Don’t you have proper cat toys?” Even asks. “I thought you went to the shop.”

“I did! He doesn’t like any of them,” Isak says. “He’s loves the socks though.”

Even takes it, turning to the cat. “You’re a class act, aren’t you?”

The cat pays him no mind, enraptured by the promise of a sock. Even lets it dangle for a moment before flicking it across the floor. The cat is on it in a second flat.

Isak watches as Even laughs, delighted when the cat comes back to drop the sock in his lap, chasing it when Even throws it again. He looks so good, sitting on Isak’s floor, relaxed and so utterly right in the space he inhabits.

If Isak doesn’t at least try to make it a permanent place for Even, he’s going to regret it always, even more than he already regrets not getting it right the first time. He wants Even, and it’s not just going to happen, not unless Isak decides to go for it. He knows Even won’t try, not again, and Isak doesn’t blame him.

He feels his hands start to sweat, his heart ticking a little faster. He can’t wait any longer.

“Hey, Even? Can I ask you something?” Isak says, heart in his throat.

“Sure,” Even says distractedly, his attention still on the cat.

“I need some expert help,” Isak says, his voice cracking a little.

Even’s focus shifts.

“And maybe you can assist me.” Isak’s barely breathing at this point, too busy cataloguing the minute shifts in Even’s eyes.

“With what?” Even asks, very quietly.

“Well,” Isak starts. Clears his throat. “I want to, to kiss you, but I don’t know if I can, and you’re the expert on the list of people you want to kiss, so. I thought I’d ask you.”

He takes a deep breath. It’s meant to be calming, but misses the mark. He looks Even straight in the eye. “This is me asking you.”

“You want to kiss me?” Even says it softly, taking his time.

Isak nods. “Yes.”

Even studies him for a moment, before slowly reaching out, his thumb catching on Isak’s cheekbone, stroking the skin.

Isak has to close his eyes, willing this not to be a trick of the universe.

“Can you look at me, please?” Even asks.

Isak does.

“Okay,” Even says.

“Okay?” Isak’s voice wobbles.

“Yeah,” Even says. Smiles. “You’re on the list.”

Isak breathes out a laugh, wasting no time in moving closer to Even, allowing himself into Even's space. The first kiss is placed on Even’s cheek, the next on his temple. The third goes off track when Even turns his head, capturing Isak’s lips.

There are no hard edges anywhere, nothing to cut themselves on. Even’s hair is soft as Isak drags his hand through it, Even’s hands carefully stroking Isak’s back. Isak wants to smile, wants to laugh, but he wants to stay close even more, so he tampers it down in order to kiss Even again, again, again.

Eventually, Even pulls back. Isak keeps a hand in his hair, preventing Even from going too far.

“Imagine if you’d gotten the pink Söderhamn at Ikea like I told you to, we wouldn’t have to be on the floor right now,” Even says, one hand sneaking down to work its way into Isak’s back pocket.

Isak smiles. “Guess we’re gonna have to go back.”

“Guess so,” Even says. “Are you gonna give me your mash again?”

“No, I’m gonna get the food so that you won’t be skimped out of your fries,” Isak says, combing Even’s fringe back.

“It was my own fault,” Even protests.

“No, it wasn’t. You’re just too nice to complain,” Isak says. “And too impatient to wait.”

“Well, excuse me for wanting to get back to you as quickly as possible,” Even says, pressing a kiss to Isak’s cheek.

Isak blushes, feels happiness build up inside him. “Okay, you’re forgiven.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Even says.

“I am very kind,” Isak says grandly. He leans in to press a lingering kiss to Even’s lips, savouring the feeling in the sun-lit living room. "And I'm sorry. I'm really sorry for making you sad. I didn't lie to you, but I wasn't completely honest either and that wasn't right."

Even looks at him, slowly releasing his breath. "Thank you."

Isak shrugs. "I should have said it sooner." 

“Yeah, maybe,” Even says. “But you've said it now.” He reaches over to take Isak's hand, interlocking their fingers.

“I promise that I'll say yes to every date you ask me to,” Isak says.

"Good," Even says. "I have some ideas."

Isak allows himself a few seconds to snapshot the moment into permanent memory before determinedly crawling into Even's lap, bringing their lips back together.

 

It’s not until the cat insistently meows at them an hour later that Isak fully comes out of the haze.

“Your cat is broken,” Even says, his lips a cherry red.

“He’s just hungry,” Isak says, not having the time to get distracted by Even before the cat butts in again. “Okay, okay, I’m on it.”

He reaches out to scratch the cat between the ears.

“Are you staying for dinner?”

“Are we having the same food as the cat?” Even asks.

“No.”

“Then yes.”

Isak steals another kiss.

 

*

 

Two days later, Even still hasn’t gone home. They’ve both left the flat for work and classes, more so since Isak in correspondence with Oskar came to the decision that finishing the term and get his credits instead of abandoning them completely will be way better for his future job hunting, but mostly, they’ve been locked inside the flat. Isak’s learnt more about Even in the last forty-eight hours than he’s ever known before and, luckily, none of it has been deal breakers.

Thursday has been a quiet one, none of them having commitments, none of them setting an alarm. Isak wakes up to feed the cat before hurrying back into bed, pressing his cold feet against Even’s. It’s another hour before he’s awoken again, this time by Even pressing a kiss to his forehead, nudging him into consciousness.

“Hi,” Even says as Isak looks up at him.

“Morning,” Isak says, tilting his head up for a kiss.

Even strokes a fingertip down Isak’s cheek, connecting millimetres of skin into patterns beyond Isak’s imagination. “I have a question.”

Isak closes his eyes, shifts closer. Allows himself to feel, to keep the feelings without guilt. “Mhm.”

“Do you really not remember anything from the night we got married?” Even asks, voice a little tentative.

Isak shakes his head, snuggling closer to Even in the process. “No. Do you?”

“No. I thought that-“ Even huffs out a laugh. “I don’t know.”

“What?” Isak looks up at him. “You can tell me.”

“I thought that maybe you did but didn’t want to tell me. That I’d said something or…done something embarrassing.”

Isak frowns, lifting a hand to catch Even’s neck, steady him a little. “No.” He smiles. “If you’d done something embarrassing, I’d bring it up constantly.”

“Shut up,” Even says, giving Isak’s chest a little push.

Isak wriggles a little, scooting on top of Even. “I’m just kidding. I wouldn’t.” Places a kiss on Even’s cheek. “What do you think happened?”

Even takes a deep breath. Closes his eyes. “I think I asked you. As a joke, maybe, because that would be easier.”

“And I said yes.”

Even smiles. “And you said yes, and then we got married.”

“I don’t think that's it,” Isak says.

“No?”

Isak shakes his head. Fixes Even’s fringe, combing it back so that he can see Even’s face better. “I think I asked you.” He summons his courage, made easier by Even’s warmth, his touch. “I think I got really drunk, and then said something stupid.”

“Couldn’t have been that stupid if it got me to marry you,” Even whispers.

“Maybe not.” Isak leans down for the softest of kisses. Pulls back enough to raise his eyebrows. “Or maybe I just said something about wanking off to old black and white movies, that’d get you to the altar.”

Even immediately pinches his side, making Isak squirm. He dives in to get back at Even, but is manoeuvred onto his back, hands pinned down. He doesn’t mind though, the kiss he gets more than makes up for his involuntary surrender.

Even shifts to allow one of his hands onto Isak’s jaw, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. Pulls back a little.

“Doesn’t matter what you said, you still would’ve gotten me to the altar,” Even says.

Isak smiles, wider than he usually does, wider than he likes because it exposes him. Lets the outside world in but right now, he doesn’t mind. “You could have said anything and I still would’ve married you.”

“Next time we’ll do it sober,” Even says.

“Next time,” Isak says. Locks the words up tight. “Do you want to go out this weekend? I want to buy you food.”

“Like to a restaurant?” Even asks, fond smile almost too much for Isak to meet. He does anyway.

“Mhm. I’ll get Eskild to call and book a table.”

“Isak.”

“What, you want to do it?” Isak asks, thumbing at the soft skin just behind Even’s ear.

There’s silence for all of three seconds. “No.”

“Thought so,” Isak says.

“I just hate talking on the phone,” Even says, defensive but also endearing.

“I know,” Isak says. “Hence Eskild.”

“Ooh, _hence_. You’re getting fancy, aren’t you?” Even pokes him in the cheek.

Isak turns to kiss the finger. “I’m going to be a librarian. I have to know all the words.”

Even leans down to press a kiss to Isak’s nose, then another one as it scrunches up. “I’m happy for you, it’s gonna be perfect.”

“I’m happy for me too,” Isak says. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’ve booked a hot date this week, and I applied to a new uni programme, and I have an awesome job, so.”

“Living the dream,” Even says. “Who is this mysterious person you’re dating?”

“My ex-husband,” Isak says. “Wait, no, I don’t like that. My…”

“Your boyfriend?” Even asks. It’s funny how nervous he sounds, when Isak’s the one with melting insides.

“Yeah. My boyfriend.” Isak smiles. “He’s really, really, really great. And I don't know if it's too soon to tell him, but. I'm in love with him. A lot in love.”

“Well, I heard rumours that he told you he was in love with you before you'd even gone on a first date,” Even says. "So I think you're in the clear."

"Yeah?" 

Even smiles. "Yeah."

Isak pulls him down for another kiss.

 

*

 

In a move oddly reminiscent of another weekend, Isak makes plans to spend Sunday with Even and Saturday with Sonja. He wakes up with Even, having to fight for a while to push him out of bed in time for Even to make his breakfast meeting with a producer. 

“Stupid people, scheduling things on a Saturday,” Even mutters as he kisses his way down Isak’s neck.

Isak pulls his hair a little, getting a happy noise in response. “I thought you scheduled it.”

Even pauses for a second, groans. “Fuck me.”

Isak laughs. “Sorry, babe.”

Even flops down next to Isak. “It’s all the way across town, too.”

“Calm down,” Isak says. “Oslo’s not that big.”

“You’re not that big,” Even mumbles.

“Hey!” Isak slaps his chest, sliding out of bed.

“No, I’m sorry,” Even says, wrapping his arms around Isak’s middle, pulling him in to stand in between Even's legs. “You’re so big, the biggest.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Isak says, still unable to resist hugging Even back, placing a kiss in his hair. “You need to get ready.”

“You too. What time does Sonja get here?” Even’s voice is slightly muffled by Isak’s t-shirt.

“Around ten,” Isak says. “I’m buying her breakfast.”

“Can’t she buy her own breakfast?” Even asks. “She gets paid more than you.”

“Are you coming with us?” Isak asks.

“No.”

“Then be quiet. I’m buying,” Isak says.

“Okay,” Even says, nuzzling closer.

“Nope, none of that,” Isak says, forcibly untangling Even’s arms from around him. “Shower, come on.”

Even grumbles a little, but concedes when Isak starts stripping down, heading for the bathroom. Even’s pretty quick to follow.

 

“He’s so cute!” Sonja says, leaning down to pet the cat weaving in and out her legs. “And so friendly, hi!” 

“Not with everyone,” Isak says. “He grabbed hold of Mutta’s hair the other day and refused to let go.”

“Oh wow,” Sonja says. “Good thing mine’s shorter.” She draws herself back up. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Isak says. Mentally going over his checklist, he throws a quick look to make sure he changed the water and put some treats in the bowl before turning to the cat. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

The cat sits down, tilting its head.

“I’ll take that as an okay,” Isak says.

“Absolutely,” Sonja says, going out the door. “Has he tried to escape?”

“Not yet,” Isak says, “he mostly just likes to sit in the window sill and watch.”

They go downstairs and out into the almost warm breeze. “It’s gonna be spring soon,” Sonja says.

“You say that every year,” Isak says. “And then there’s always at least one more snow storm.”

“Yeah, but has there ever been a year where there wasn’t a spring?” She smiles, treading her arm through his. “You just have to wait it out.”

Isak squeezes her arm. They continue their walk through puddles of melted snow.

 

The breakfast place Sonja’s picked out is relatively new, which means Isak has to fight his way through more hipster glasses and hair-bows than he usually sees in a week. He returns to her with a loaded tray, balancing it on the corner of the table. 

“The left side is yours,” he says.

“Thank you,” Sonja says, quickly getting everything set up on the table.

“I can’t believe you’re actually gonna eat that,” Isak says, taking his seat after getting rid of the tray and nodding towards her chia pudding.

“What, it’s delicious!” She says, holding out a spoonful. “You wanna try?”

“No thanks,” Isak says, wrinkling his nose.

“It’s really healthy,” Sonja says.

“So is this,” Isak retorts, pointing to his porridge, “and it’s better for the environment.”

“Jonas?” She asks, raising an eyebrow.

“He went on this whole streak about how western countries usurp vital food components from developing countries, and making the people there starve,” Isak says.

“What started it?” Sonja asks.

“He saw a box of quinoa at my house,” Isak says, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, that’d do it,” she says, taking another bite.

“I- I’m really glad that we’re hanging out,” Isak says, clearing his throat. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Sonja says. “You know that thing were we don’t talk about awkward stuff and eventually it gets really out of hand?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s not do that anymore.”

Isak raises his coffee cup. “Deal.”

Sonja clinks it with her tea. “Deal.”

 

“I’m switching programmes, by the way,” Isak says, back from having refilled their drinks.

“Let me guess, you’re going for library science?” Sonja asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Wha- you know what, I’m not even going to ask,” Isak says. “But yeah, I am.”

“That’s awesome. You’re going to be brilliant at it, at least from what I’ve seen,” Sonja says.

Isak smiles at her. “What about you, you still happy with your job?”

“Not really,” Sonja says. “I’ve been thinking about going into, like, nursing. Maybe home care?”

“You’d be great,” Isak says.

“You think?”

“Definitely! What’s the hold-up?” Isak asks, taking a sip of coffee.

“I don’t know, it’s kind of heavy work,” Sonja says. “Plus, the ads I’ve seen all want you to have a driver’s license.”

“You can get one,” Isak shrugs. “You just need to practice a bit, take some lessons and boom. We have all the books at the library, so you don’t need to buy them.”

“I refuse to drive with my parents though,” Sonja says.

“Yeah, that’d be a disaster,” Isak says, laughing a little. “Hey, why don’t you ask Even? He’s a good driver.”

Sonja looks at him for a moment. Isak looks back, calmly.

“Really?” She asks, careful. “Cause I don’t want it to be a thing.”

“It’s not a thing,” Isak says. He sits up a little straighter, trying for honesty to bleed through in his expression. “It’s not.”

“Okay,” she says. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good.” Isak fiddles a little with his napkin. “He says that you haven’t really talked to him.”

“It’s just felt weird. I mean, he apologised for being a dick about the whole him-not-having-feelings-for-me thing, but still. I feel like I’m gonna send signals or something if I talk to him too much,” Sonja says, concentrating on stirring honey into her tea.

“I’m sorry,” Isak says. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable around him.”

“It’ll pass,” Sonja says. “We managed to become friends after being a couple, I’m sure we’ll get past this too.”

Isak nods. “You will.”

Sonja smiles at him. “Come on, taste test.” She holds out her tea, gesturing for him to hand over his coffee.

Despite them doing this a million times, Isak still can’t help but grimace as the sweetness hits his tongue.

“It’s still gross,” Isak says, handing it back. “Honey in tea is disgusting.”

“So is black coffee,” Sonja says, scrunching up her nose. “Good to know.”

“Same as always,” Isak says.

“Same as always.”

 

*

 

Sunday brings a proper, actual, out-and-about date. Eskild was more than happy to book them a table at a nice seafood restaurant nearby, with Isak hovering close to him while on the phone.

“We don’t have to go for fish every time,” Even says.

“It’s our thing,” Isak says stubbornly, fixing the collar of his shirt.

Even comes up to hug him from behind, burrowing his nose in Isak’s neck. “Okay. It’s our thing.”

Isak tries to limit them to five minutes of making out before getting out the door. They still wind up late.

 

It’s a little too dressed up for Isak’s taste, but he doesn’t really mind when Even pulls him out of his head, getting him roped into a discussion about the best Ninja Turtle. 

“You’re wrong,” Isak says, waving his last piece of bread around. “It’s actually sad how wrong you are.”

“Am not,” Even says, leaning in to grasp Isak’s hand, guiding it over to steal a bite of the bread. “You’re just too narrow minded to understand the greatness of Michelangelo.”

Isak gasps. “Narrow minded?”

“Yep,” Even says, smirking. “Come on, give me a good reason why he’s not the best.”

“He- well, he. He sucks!” Isak knows he’s drawing the attention from other diners, but his outburst is making Even laugh, which means he’s not about to tone it down anytime soon. “And you suck for liking him.”

Even wriggles his eyebrows, his foot sneaking up to grace Isak’s leg.

Isak’s mouth goes dry. “Yeah, we’re gonna need the check.”

 

Isak pushes Even gently up against the door, arms sneaking around Even’s waist, underneath his jacket. Even’s come up to link around Isak’s shoulders, pulling him close enough for Isak to rest his face against Even’s neck. 

He stays there for a while, slowing his breathing. Calming. He can feel Even’s nose in his hair, his lips resting just above Isak’s ear.

“Did you change your cologne?” Isak asks, his voice no louder than a mumble.

“No,” Even says.

Isak burrows in closer. “It smells better now.”

Even chuckles quietly. “Thank you.”

“I want to make out with you,” Isak says, still protesting when Even goes to move away, tightening his grip. “Hug first, though.”

Even’s shoulder relax. “Okay. Hug first.”

 

*

 

Isak’s flat is once again filling up with people, but this time he doesn’t mind hosting. Having Even around to help him set up and promise to stay the night has made the current dinner less stressful than any of Isak’s past endeavours.

Sonja is one of the first through the door, greeting them both with hugs. It only manages to be awkward once, when Isak unthinkingly grabs Even’s hand only to freeze in the next second and stammer his way through his next sentence. He didn’t even mind Sonja and Even exchanging meaning looks over it, since that effectively cut through the tension.

She’s currently in the middle of an intense talk with Mahdi, smiling at Isak when she notices him looking over. Isak’s busy at the table, Sana on one side and Magnus on the other. The cat has jumped up in Magnus’s lap, purring quietly.

“Did you finally decide on a name for the cat?” Sana asks.

“Yeah, it’s- I call him Macky for short,” Isak says.

“Oh, after the guy who plays the Falcon? Sick!” Magnus says, holding out for a high-five.

Isak gives it happily.

Sana raises her eyebrows. “What is it really short for?”

“It’s, you know. It’s…” Isak says, desperately searching for a plausible lie. “McDonald’s.”

“No, it’s not,” Sana says. “It’s something way more embarrassing than that.”

“How would you know?” Isak says.

“Your ears are red, and you’re a library nerd.” Sana meets his glare with a smile, dimples out in full force.

Isak crosses his arms. “You’re being mean. And you’re wrong.”

“Alright,” Sana says easily. “There’s an easy way to settle this, though. Hey, Even!” Her voice cuts through the room.

“What, no, you can’t-“

“Yeah?” Even’s voice is happy, so happy that Isak loses his focus long enough for Sana to shout the question through the flat.

“What’s the cat’s name?”

“Telemachus!”

Sana smirks at Isak.

“ _Even_!” Isak sinks lower in his chair.

Even pops his head in the door. “Yeah?”

“You said you wouldn’t tell,“ Isak says, somewhat whining.

“Oh, shit,” Even says. “Sorry, babe. It’s…” He frowns for a second, turning to Isak. “What was it again?”

“Macky for short!”

“Right, right.” Even looks at Sana. “It’s Macky, for short.”

“Great,” Sana says, still smiling. “Thanks, Even.”

“No problem,” Even says, bounding over to place a kiss on Isak’s temple. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, his lips warm against Isak’s skin.

“It’s fine,” Isak says, melting a little as he gets another kiss, this one grazing the corner of his mouth.

“So, wait. It’s not because of the Falcon?” Magnus asks.

“No,” Isak sighs. “It’s from The Odyssey.”

“Haven’t read it,” Magnus shrugs. “Is it good?”

Isak nods.

“You should read it,” Even says. “I had some trouble at first, but when you get into it, it’s really good. Oh, but try and get one of the newer translations, cause otherwise the language is really stuffy.”

Somehow, Isak’s managed to slide almost all the way out of his seat, pressed up against Even’s legs and chest, unable to tear his eyes away from Even as he speaks.

“Please don’t jump him at the table,” Sana says, pulling Isak’s shoulder so that he’s sitting properly on his chair again.

“I wasn’t going to,” Isak says, blushing a little. He tugs on Even’s hand, making him look down. “You’ve read The Odyssey?"

Even squeezes his hand. “Of course. I saw your post on insta and you looked like you really liked it, so I wanted to try it out.”

Isak knows his smile is downright ridiculous, but it gets Even to lean down and kiss him, so he doesn’t really mind. “You should stay here,” Isak says when they pull away.

“Okay,” Even says easily, allowing Isak to pull him down and sit on his lap. Isak leans his face against Even’s warm back and listens in on Even’s conversation with Magnus, feeling the vibrations all the way to his core when Even laughs.

Being happy has never been this effortless.

 

*

 

Even is waiting outside when Isak gets off work on Wednesday, giving him a hug as soon as Isak exits the building.

“I didn’t know you were coming to pick me up,” Isak says, hurrying to pull one of his own pairs of gloves onto Even’s hands. “You need to learn to dress better.”

“Don’t have to when I've got you,” Even says, looking fond as Isak glowers at him. “Fine, I’ll put on mittens next time.”

“That’s all I’m asking,” Isak says. “Did we decide to do something tonight? Cause I forgot, I’m sorry.”

“Nope, just wanted to walk you home,” Even says. “And maybe sleep with you.”

“Just maybe?” Isak asks, swinging their interlocked hands together.

“Well, no, definitely, but I don’t want to sound desperate,” Even says.

“I don’t mind,” Isak says. “I like that you like me.”

Even ducks his head, trying to hide his smile. Isak tilts his head up, kissing him lightly.

“Before I forget, I got a text from my uncle earlier,” Even says, pulling Isak in closer.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm. He said that we need to come in to the office again, cause the forms we filled out weren’t enough for the American divorce.”

Isak stops. “Wait. We’re still married in the States?”

“Apparently,” Even says, leaning in to brush Isak’s fringe away from his face. “I said I’d check with you which day was good before we booked the appointment.”

Isak licks his lips, takes a minute step closer to Even. “Do we have to?”

“Do we have to what?” Even asks, jumping a little when Isak sneaks his cold hands underneath Even’s jacket.

“Get divorced,” Isak says.

Even’s eyes grow impossibly soft. “You want to stay married to me?”

“Yes, please,” Isak says, nodding enthusiastically. “We don’t even have to tell anyone, we’ll keep it a secret.”

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Even says, stealing a kiss. “It’s like a secret identity.”

“Yeah, and that way we’re not rushing into anything in _this_ country, but we still get to-“

“Piss off Trump?” Even asks, grinning.

Isak pokes his side. “I knew you only married me for political reasons.”

“Nah,” Even says, leaning in for a long, slow kiss. “That was just a really good cover up.”

Isak hugs him closer, nestles his face into Even’s neck. “I love you.”

He can feel the warmth of Even’s smile surround him.

“I love you,” Even whispers. “Come on, I want to go home and cook for you.”

“Can I help?” Isak asks, pulling away a little to meet Even’s gaze.

“Sure,” Even says, gently interlacing their fingers.

They start walking, steps in synch. Isak doesn’t even know whose flat they’re going to, but that’s okay because Even does.

Isak is more than happy to hand himself over.

 


End file.
